


A Different Curse

by ChloeWinchester



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Branding, Domestic Violence, F/M, Force-Feeding, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Public Humiliation, Stabbing, Torture, True Blood AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 84,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWinchester/pseuds/ChloeWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle is kidnapped, tortured and tormented by Storybrooke's more bloodthirsty inhabitants. Taken on the understanding she will be gifted to the oldest, cruelest and most powerful member of vampire royalty, she is utterly terrified of her fate, and her future. Until she meets him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monsters

Dark. Always so dark and cold down here, tucked away until night came and they took her again. The iron collar around her neck was heavy. It chafed her skin, the chains jingling with every tiny movement. The big cog above her head groaned and creaked any time she had to crawl to the bucket yards away, and she knew they could hear. Asleep or no, she knew they could. Right now she was alone. The others that had been bound here were gone. Dead. Bits of one were still splattered against the far wall.

She cried with what little voice she had, no longer calling for help, or hoping for it. Her body throbbed with pain, the bites that littered her skin throbbing horribly and they itched. The rest of her bruises, her aches, her cuts, those were from disobedience and humiliation. The blackened contusions on the insides of her thighs from that one with the hook forcing his mouth almost at her groin hurt the most. He’d touched her, he’d touched her and he wouldn’t stop for nothing.

Her dress was in tatters, the yellow stained with blood and dirt and spit and alcohol. She passed most of her time combing her hair out with her fingers, sobbing with each knot that caused her pain. Each time the door opened she hoped it brought water or food she could actually stomach. Often she got water, but the food she was given smelled foul and made her sick each time she tried keeping it down.

“I just want to go home!” She’d said that until her voice was sore. She hadn’t done anything to them, why did they want her? Why wouldn’t they just let her go? Let her be?

They dragged her upstairs every night while she kicked and screamed and cried, fed on her wherever they could reach and then tossed her into the bar. They forced her onto the tables and made her dance. And they laughed at her. They laughed when she fell and hurt herself, laughed when she asked if she’d be given better food if she did a good job, beaten severely for talking back or asking to leave.

And each night, weak and shattered, they would throw her here and tell her this was nothing compared to what would happen when her new master claimed her.

She knew nothing of him, other than he was very, very old, and very powerful. He held such power over every creature that resided feared him and knew his name. Crocodile, the hooked one called him. The Dark One, the others said.  

Belle wasn’t sure how it could be worse with him, but she wouldn’t doubt the fear in those monster’s eyes when they spoke of him.

Leaning against the rough pole she cried, her eyes already swollen, her body shaking like the frailest leaf. Maybe if she died before he got here it wouldn’t have to be so bad…

The music started upstairs and she sobbed, shaking her head. Soon. They’d come soon.

The door opened and light billowed down the stairs. She whimpered and skittered away, hiding behind the post, the chain pulled taut.

“We were going to tell you-” Hook was saying.

“You weren’t supposed to be back yet!” One called Regina exclaimed.

“Not that it makes it any better, what we did, but once you smell her, my lord,” Regina’s mother implored. Whoever they were speaking to clapped what sounded like a cane on the landing and they were silenced.

Belle peeked around the corner, catching sight of them and hiding again. But they’d seen her. They’d come for her.

“Crawl out of there, you filthy thing,” Regina spat.

“Speak again and I’ll stake you myself.” The voice was quiet, dangerous and lilting with an accent. Regina quieted immediately, and Belle stayed hidden. She cried louder as the steps got closer, daring to peek one more time and finding herself eye to eye with the stranger.

She yelped and hid again, sobbing louder.  

“Oh, no, no, shh...hey now,” he said softly, following her eyes. “I won’t hurt you.”

She looked at him, her eyes bright even in this light. She met his dark ones, and relaxed a little. Not because of any glamor because he was looking at her like...well, like she was a person and not a meal.

“It’s alright now. I won’t hurt you, you can come out.” He held up the key to the padlock holding the collar together. “Let’s get that off of you, dearie.”

She crept out, shaking under the gazes of the other vampires, how disgusted they looked with her. She hung her head, sighing when the collar was gone.

“There,” he breathed, smiling gently. “Better?” She nodded. He tipped her chin, looking her over. “Oh, you poor girl… Did they hurt you?”

“Yes,” she squeaked, shrinking into herself.

“Would you tell me what they did?” He whispered. She looked up at them nervously, fresh tears in her eyes.

“Please. Please, I don’t want to-”

“They cannot lay a hand on you ever again. Not a finger, not a fang, and not a hook,” he glared at Killian briefly. “Did they bite you?” He urged when she was still quiet.

“Yes,” she whispered. “A-all over.”

“They undressed you?” He asked. She nodded, bowing her head in shame.

“They wouldn’t bite my neck,” she whimpered. “And when, when they were done feeding on me they put me on one of the tables, i-in my underwear. They made me dance.” Slowly, he was touching her shoulder and her cheek, and she didn’t stop him.  “They laughed at me. I was too weak to stand and they laughed at me. Beat me. I said I was sorry!”

“Shh, shh...Breathe, little one, shh…” He pulled her into his arms, and though he was cold she still felt safer. “What else, sweetheart? Tell me so I can punish them.”

“They left me down here. M-made me eat that,” she nodded to the plate of slop not far off. “I had to do things for water and they, they threatened me with…” She looked up at him. “With you.”

His eyes flashed with anger and she shrunk back, afraid.

“Shh…” He soothed, petting her hair. He lifted her into his arms quite suddenly. “I’m going to take you from here, and get you well.” He scowled at the surrounding vampires. “Not only did you feed from a girl meant to be mine and spoiled a perfectly good gift, but you brought me an unwilling participant.

“And if that wasn’t enough, you tortured this child and now she is terrified to be near our kind. This kind of mistake will not go unpunished. And all of you owe this young lady the most sincere apologies, and I don’t mean right now,” he snarled at Killian, who backed down.

The girl curled against him tighter, sniffling. “Clear out the bar, we’re done for tonight. I’m taking her to my room and none of you are to be seen until further notice, understand?” They nodded, fear in their eyes. “Good. Now get out!”

They were gone before Belle could blink. The man holding her cooed to her again, gently lifting her chin. “What’s your name, dearie?”

“B-Belle,” she stammered.

He smiled a little wider. “Such a beautiful and fitting name,” he whispered. “Alright, Belle, I’m going to take you upstairs to my room. There I can treat your wounds, you can bathe, have something else to wear and eat a decent meal. And after you can sleep to your heart’s content. Tomorrow night, I shall take you wherever you desire. Your home, somewhere far from me and these others, wherever you like. Does all that sound alright to you?”

She blinked up at him, lips shaking. “But I...I thought I was supposed to be y-yours?”

“No, no, I never keep anyone that doesn’t want to stay,” he assured. “Forcing someone to be your pet leads to betrayal, harm and likely death to the vampire holding the human prisoner, and I’d never chance such a thing, or force someone into my servitude. Especially a sweet young girl like you.”

She shivered, folding her lips. “Why am I special? Why did they want to feed on me so much?”

“Because you’re a virgin, Belle. And virgin blood is a coveted delicacy. But it gave them no right.” Silence resounded upstairs, and he started carrying her up, holding her with one arm and limping with the other.

She relaxed against him, gripping his suit jacket in a frightened hand. He smelled good…

“Can...Can I ask your name?” She asked fearfully. He gave her another gentle smile.

“It’s silly,” he assured. “And archaic.” She kept looking at him, expectant. He smiled again. “Rumplestiltskin.”

Belle nodded. “Rumplestiltskin…” She breathed, closing her eyes again. “I like your name.”

The air of the room was gone, her new surroundings warmer, and it continued the further upstairs she got. Finally a door opened and she looked to find an elegant bedroom with black walls and windows, not a hint of outside light to be found. She swallowed, looking up at the vampire holding her.

He said he wouldn’t hurt her, and with all her heart, all the pain wracking her small frame, she could only hope that Rumplestiltskin kept his word.

 


	2. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin takes care of Belle in an unconventional way.

Belle was gingerly set down on the end of the bed, and Rumplestiltskin knelt in front of her, trying to keep her calm. He looked over her battered body, brow clenched and worried. Belle’s eyes were distant, the bruises on her face worse in the light. The scratches and scrapes on her legs bled lightly from all the movement, the bites that were visible angry and painful. She was so pale from the blood loss, and he was worried for her.

“Belle?” He said softly, touching her chin to gain her attention. Her tired but bright eyes met his, recognition returning to them. “There are two ways I can alleviate your pain. I can take care of you like any other human doctor, treat them as best as I can, but it will take a good deal of time for you to heal. And for the pain to go away entirely.”

Belle took a shaky breath, eyes closing a moment. “What, what’s the other option?”

“I open up my wrist, and you drink a bit of my blood. You’ll be healed, entirely,” he promised. “But, it has its consequences. One drop of my blood, and I will know where you are and what you’re feeling at all times. And...well…”

Belle blinked slowly, leaning forward a little. His voice was enchanting, and his eyes were dazzling, and it took the rest of her feigning strength to focus on his words. “What?”

“Well, you’ll have rather...explicit thoughts of me. You’ll be attracted to me on instinct. And I don’t want you to have to endure that without warning you, and without your permission. You’ve had enough done to you without your permission,” he said softly, smiling gently at her.

Belle swallowed, looking at him. “Well...I’m already attracted to you,” she admitted sleepily, her words slurred. He gave her a soft smile, not interrupting. “And that might be the loss of blood and the head injuries but…”  She cleared her throat and swallowed, tears filling her eyes. “It hurts so much. And I can’t...I can’t take anymore of this, please.”

“Shh, shh, no tears,” he urged, cupping her face. “No tears, Belle, it’ll be over soon.” He sat down beside her on the bed. “You want the blood, then?”

Belle nodded. “Please. I want it, please…” She wouldn’t mind having a guardian angel like this, she supposed.

He shushed her again, gently and quietly. “Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.” His fangs exposed themselves and he bit his wrist open, guiding her mouth to it.

Belle drank greedily, immediately feeling its effects the second it touched her throat. Her pain started to fade, and quickly it became nonexistent. The bites and bruises vanished, all signs of her agony, save for any blood, was utterly gone in moments. Her fatigue remained, and that was all.

Rumplestiltskin winced after a moment. “That’s enough, dear,” he breathed. Belle released immediately, blood on her lips. Her breath shook, her bloodshot eyes on the wrist she’d just drank from. He smiled, impressed with her control, and wiped her lips with the silk cloth drawn from his jacket pocket. “There. Good girl,” he smiled. “Feel better?”

She flushed with the moniker she was surprised hadn’t made her uncomfortable. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Very much.” He smiled gently and nodded to the door across from them.

“The bathroom’s through there. You’re welcome to a bath, shower, whatever you like. Use whatever you need. I’ll have clothes brought up for you, and once you’re through we can get you something to eat. Does that sound alright?”

She nodded graciously. “Absolutely. Thank you.”

Belle stood carefully and went into the bathroom. She smiled softly at him before closing the door. She leaned back against it, taking a deep breath. This was real. This was really happening to her. The horror of that room was gone. The soft voice and warmth of Rumplestiltskin, it seemed, was her immediate present. And it was dizzying to think about.

She ran herself a bath, immersing herself in the hot water, trying to scrub off the horrific scum she felt was left behind by the horrific monsters who’d used her as a tap.

Her hair was soft again, free of any grime, just as her skin was. She looked at herself in the mirror, skin clear, dark circles under red eyes the only sign of this ordeal. Once her hair was dry, dark curls falling around her shoulders, she took the brown robe from the back of the door and wrapped it around herself, peering back into the room.

Rumplestiltskin was on the phone, murmuring in a language she didn’t understand, perched at the window. He smiled back at her, waving a little and nodding to the small pile of clothes on the dresser.

Belle picked them up with a gracious bow of her head and disappeared back into the bathroom.

She slid the nightgown over her head and stepped back out, the robe still on her shoulders. The nightgown wasn’t the most modest of things.

Rumplestiltskin had hung up the phone and was seated on the small sofa against the wall. He smiled at her. “Enjoy your bath?”

“I did,” she nodded, warily sitting on the bed. “Thank you again.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he assured. “Now, I believe I promised you something to eat?”

Fifteen minutes later Belle was eating a cheeseburger the size of her face, careful to contain any mess to her own lap. She thanked him at least ten times throughout her quiet meal, assuring him she’d find a way to pay him back.

“Belle, you owe me nothing. In fact, this is me attempting amends for the horrors you’ve had to endure. And I certainly owe you more than a bath, a burger and a mouthful of blood,” he promised. “But we can discuss that later. Right now, you need some rest.”

She stood. “Yes, um, the sofa then?” She said quietly. It looked luxurious at least. And so much more comfortable than that slimy floor or the rough post.

He frowned and shook his head. “The sofa? No, of course not, you have the bed. I can sleep here,” he assured. Belle flushed and lied back down on the bed, pulling the blankets around herself.

Everything was soft and warm, with the gentle lingering scent of his skin and the cologne he wore. She nuzzled into the pillow, lost to sleep in a matter of seconds.

Rumplestiltskin pulled the blankets over her shoulders, tucking her in as gently as possible. He smoothed her hair back, just looking at her. Poor child…

He let her be, reading until it was nearly dawn and drifted off to sleep on the couch.

~*~

Belle woke many hours later, rested and calm. It took her a moment to remember where she was, the warm, soft bed much more vast than hers at home, and so much better than the floor of the basement.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up, the robe half off her shoulder. She looked around, eyes resting on the undisturbed Rumplestiltskin lying peacefully on the sofa.

Her legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet carefully touching the cold wooden floor. She tied the robe closed, moving cautiously.

Rumplestiltskin’s hands were folded over his chest, not breathing -as vampires didn’t- and oh so very still. Dead still. Belle was wary to break the silence, but the rumbling in her belly gave her the motive to move.

Daylight bathed her feet when she reached the stairs, but it was a late afternoon sun steadily dipping down, and however many vampires that resided here would wake soon.

Trembling in remembered flashes of pain, she stared around the bar, hugging herself. It looked entirely different in the light. Empty. Maybe even safe. But it wasn’t. She shuddered and kept walking, looking around to the physical bar itself. There was a plate of fruit waiting for her, and she took an apple for herself. Silence. Pure silence. Stifling…

Part of her wanted to leave.

If she ran home now everything would go back to as it was. Back to her books and her room and her...quiet little life where nothing happened. Her father would pressure her into marrying Gaston, and she’d spend the rest of her life as a quiet, unseen little girl and she’d be entirely...unhappy.

But the vampire waiting for her upstairs, who had been so kind and gentle with her, who’d helped her and never once did anything without her express consent seemed a far better option. She wanted to know more about him. Where he came from, how old he was, all the things he’d seen. She wanted to know all of it.

And if she walked out that door right now, she might never know.

She padded her way back upstairs, nibbling her apple and sitting on the bed. She wasn’t sure if vampires could be roused while the sun was out, or what would happen if they were, but she didn’t want to disturb him.

Belle played with her hair awhile, keeping her eyes on the bookshelf on the other side of the room. If she was careful, she wouldn’t disturb him, she just had to be quiet.

He didn’t stir, and she had a book in her lap two minutes later and she read. It wasn’t a language she knew well, but she did well enough.

Time passed without her noticing, too engrossed in what she was reading to even realize the vampire was awake and looking at her.

“How do you like it?” He asked, breaking the silence. Belle jumped, the book falling to the floor.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- Oh, I-” She stammered, fumbling to pick it up, carefully dusting it off and looking it over as if it were an injured child.

“Shh, shh, calm down, its alright,” he promised, smiling gently and walking closer to her. “You were reading a book, dearie, not my personal diary or anything. It’s alright.”

He sat down beside her, eyes soft. She hugged the book to her chest, as if to apologize to it, and patted it tenderly. “I, um, I didn’t have anything else to do,” she whispered. “So, I…”

“I know,” he smiled. “That’s alright. Perfectly fine, you’re welcome to any book on that shelf. Although, I didn’t expect you to be here when I woke up.”

“Thought I’d have gone home?” She asked quietly, looking at him through her lashes. He nodded.

“I did. But I’m glad you didn’t,” he smiled. “Can I ask why yo stayed?”

Belle looked at her lap. “Curiosity,” she muttered. “And I...I don’t really want to go home.”

“You’re curious...about me?” He ventured. Belle nodded, shy, and a touch ashamed. He reached over and gently lifted her chin with his fingertips. “That’s alright,” he promised. “Nothing wrong with that. You’ve every right to ask whatever you like.” She smiled, relaxing a little. “And Belle, if you don’t want to go home, you don’t have to.”

The binding of her book was a soft, pliant leather, runes pressed in all over. The feel of the leather was soothing, the soft musk of the pages just as comforting. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a, a burden. Being human like I am.”

“You would never be a burden, Belle,” he promised. “I would love to have you with me for as long as you’d like.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. She peered at him through her lashes. “So I can...ask…?”

“Anything you like. It’s the least I can do.”

“I think you’ve done so much for me already,” she smiled. ‘But, alright. Um...how old are you?”

He chuckled and leaned back a little. “Dear me...How old am I, um...Five hundred and something if I remember right? Yes, I was turned during your Renaissance.”

“Wow,” she breathed, eyes bright with sparked wonder. “That’s incredible. You’ve...you’ve seen so much.” She was sitting on her haunches, no longer hiding behind the book. “How were you...made?”

“Do you mean the process of making a vampire? Or my personal experience?” He asked. “Because the knowledge as to how to make a vampire is...privy to few.”

“Oh, I meant your own experience. Of course that would be none of my business,” she nodded. “Still human and all.”

“I asked to be turned,” he explained. “Begged. On my knees I begged to be given that power. My maker agreed, but there was a condition. I had to kill him the moment he told me to.” He looked at his hands. “It’s a bit like killing a parent, that. The dynamic between a new vampire and their maker is...unlike anything else, really. But he commanded me, and I had to obey.”

She frowned. “I’m...I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Why did you want the power?”

“I had none,” he chuckled. “I was the town coward. Lame,” he gestured to his leg. “Friendless and without any sort of pull in the community. There was this...horrific war at the time, and they were taking all the able-bodied people they could. Including children. Especially children.

“They were going to take my son the following night. On his birthday,” he pursed his lips and shook his head. “He was all I had. His mother had run off, left us I...I had nothing. I sought out a legend. Whispers about the darkness, and what lie in it. And I was right. He turned me, and the next night I tore apart the soldiers who came for my child.”

Belle was hanging on every word, lips folded, eyes trained on his face. “You...you saved him,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he nodded with a tiny smile. “Him and a few thousand other children. You only need one vampire to win a war, it turns out. Took less than a day.” He laughed a little.

She smiled at him. “I’m glad you could do that. Save your child,” she whispered. He nodded, turning his cane in his hands.

“It didn’t last long,” he said quietly. “His life...Human lives are so fleeting. And when his age started to come close to mine, I...I offered the gift to him.” He looked away sadly. “But he didn’t want to be a monster. Like me. I watched him die.”

Belle looked at him a moment, the words weighing between them. She slowly reached out and touched his shoulder. “I don’t think you’re a monster.” He smiled a little.

“You’re very kind, Belle. But you wouldn’t have thought that then. If you’d seen,” he assured. “Time allows so much to happen. It allows the world to change. And it allows those who have to watch to grow. To learn to adapt, to understand things  a little better.”

“Like what?” She asked.

“Like...an unwilling meal really isn’t a better one,” he offered. “Not when there are so many who want to offer their blood to us. Much simpler. Some people call it boring, but I don’t.”

“Some people call the humans who offer it...foul things,” she muttered.

“And isn’t that just terrible?” He asked. “Consenting adults choosing what to do with their own bodies, and they’re scorned for it. Ridiculous if you ask me.”

She nodded. “I think so too.” She paused a moment. “What, um, what was your son’s name?”

“Baelfire,” he said quietly. “His mother named him. Milah, was her name.”

“It’s a lovely name,” she nodded. “I’m so sorry you lost them.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. But thank you.” He smiled at her. She smiled back. His eyes were....incredible. She kept losing herself in his soft gaze, immersed in the luminous bourbon color, and how intensely he always seemed to be staring at her. It was dizzying, how ensnared she was becoming.

She couldn’t help but smile back, couldn’t help but wonder what his sweet lips might feel like, his his hair was soft, if it would be as nice to kiss his dimples as she imagined it would be.

He cocked his head. “Something on my face, dear?” he said quietly. She flushed.

“Mm? No. No, not at all, um...sorry. Side effects, I’m sure.”

He bit his lip, smile fading a little. “Yes. I’m sure.” He cleared his throat. “You must be hungry, dear,” he said, standing. “I’ll get you something to eat. Some other clothes to wear.” He limped to the door. “Don’t let anyone in, alright? I have my key.”

Belle nodded, smiling back at him.

She fell back on the pillows when he left, sighing quietly to herself. He was...so unlike everyone else, vampire or otherwise, and whether it was the blood or her own feelings, something… something was drawing her to him, and she didn’t want to fight it. Not for a single moment did she want to fight him.

She stared at the ceiling, musing over the sweet, sweet music of his voice, and hoping she had made the right decision.

 


	3. The First Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The side effects of vampire blood awaken fully in Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a True Blood AU, so those are the vampire rules that apply~

Belle liked the dress Rumplestiltskin had produced for her. It was a soft yellow a few inches above her knees, the sleeves short but it was nice. Nicer than the ratty mess her other clothes had been. Dirty and bloody and they had reeked of that place, that horrible place and the sweat, the metal-

Belle swallowed, bringing herself back to the present, back to the small table she was eating at, and where the vampire was idly sipping a wine glass of that bottled blood and talking pleasantly with her.

She liked talking to him, no matter what it was about. He’d been asking about her all night. What she liked to do, the kinds of things she liked to read, what she thought of vampires…

That’s was brought her to thinking about that place again. Her eyes had gone to her lap, to her thigh where just hours ago there had been a festering bite from the one called Hook had left on her.

“Belle?” He said softly. She loved how he said her name. That gentle breathiness of his tone, always rolling on a growl. She fought to focus, ignoring the shivers trying to creep up her back.

“Sorry,” she looked up at him, smiling just a little. “I, uh, I thought they were interesting. I thought it must be amazing to have all that strength, and terribly lonely sometimes, living forever like that. I, uh, I voted for you to have rights last November, and I’m glad you have them. I’m glad they found an alternative to human blood so everyone would stop freaking out about it. I...I’m glad you don’t have to hide anymore.”

He cocked his head, smiling a little. “Why’s that?”

Belle smiled, a little shy. “Because no one should have to hide who they are.”

“After what’s happened, you still believe that?” He asked. Belle nodded.

“I do. their actions were...horrible. But I know all vampires aren’t like that.” She took a bite of her chicken. “Like you.”  

“Well, thank you, Belle,” he said graciously. “But I know how they hurt you. And they will pay for it, that I can promise you.”

Belle nodded. “I know now why people are afraid. And that there’s a reason to be afraid. I-I know what...what vampires are capable of.” She spoke softly, eyes firmly on her plate.

“They frighten you now,” he said softly. She nodded. “Do I frighten you?”

“Before I met you you did,” she admitted. “They said you’d...do terrible things to me. Worse than what they did.” He pursed his lips, eyes on the table. “Did...they have a reason to think that?”

“I’ve never kept anyone,” he said softly. “And I have been known to be very, very cruel. To other vampires, mostly. And very few humans, but I will tell you every single one of them deserved the punishments I gave to them.”

Belle looked at him a moment, understanding a little more. “I believe you.”

He smiled a little more. “Good. That’s good.”

“So you don’t...hurt good people?” She asked.

“No. Not anymore, really,” he smiled, sipping his synthetic blood again.

Belle squinted a little. “‘Not anymore, really’?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re smart.”

“Yes I am,” she agreed with a smug little smile, taking a drink of her white wine. He smiled back at her.

“I have agreements with certain individuals. Contracts, deals, if you will. And I am calm as could be, the ideal benefactor. Until one of those contracts is violated. Which is part of the agreement, of course.” Belle nodded.

“I suppose that’s reasonable,” she agreed. “Do you...trick people?”

“Not often,” he admitted. “Usually when I do it’s at their fault, not mine. Not checking all of their bases. Really a lesson in these matters, I suppose.”

Belle sat back, her plate now empty. “Why are you being so open with me?” She asked, folding her arms suspiciously, but still playful.

He chuckled. “Because you would have found me out anyway. I’ve nothing to gain from lying to you, Belle, and so I don’t want to.”

“And if you did have something to gain?”

“I still wouldn’t lie to you,” he assured. “I’ve no reason to lie to you, Belle. You’re a smart, intuitive girl who can read dead languages, lying to you would be absurd.”

Belle smiled a little. “Thank you. For being so open with me.” He gave her a small bow, just a flourish of the hand on his glass and an incline of his head. She giggled and gave one back.

“Are you getting tired, my dear?” He asked gently. She shook her head.

“No, not at all,” she smiled. “Too wound up to sleep right now. Too...intrigued.”

He smiled. “About me?” She nodded. “Well, I am an open book, dearie. Information at your disposal.”

“Well, um...I take it you weren’t born in Maine?” She smiled. He chuckled and shook his head.

“No. Scotland. Centuries ago. Not sure what part, I never went back once I left,” he explained.

“May...I ask why?” She said gently. Rumplestiltskin looked at the table. “My son, mostly. His being buried there was...a foul memory I do not wish to remind myself of. I’ve kept his grave tended and marked, of course. But there’s nothing for me there. Just bad memories of a weak, pathetic little man with nothing.”

Belle saw the pain in his face. The deep, old pain settled in the rich brown of his eyes. Her brow pinched in sympathy. She reached across the table and gently touched his hand. “I’m sorry, Rumplestiltskin.”

He looked at their hands a moment. “Your kindness overwhelms me, Belle.” He placed his other hand over hers. “Thank you.”

His skin was cold, but she didn’t mind it at all.

“You’re welcome,” she said softly.

They talked throughout the night, until dawn was close and Belle was already much too tired.

“What happens if you don’t sleep while the sun’s out?” Belle asked, changed into the nightgown again and sitting up in bed. Rumplestiltskin chuckled from the sofa.

“I’ll start to bleed. My ears, my eyes, my nose, and if I don’t get any rest it won’t stop,” he explained, eyes closed. Belle grimaced.

“That sounds awful.”

“Oh, it is. I don’t recommend it,” he smiled. “Get some rest, Belle. I’ll still be here for your inquiries tomorrow.”

She lied down, watching him. “Does it bother you? Me asking?”

“Not at all. Your genuine curiosity is endearing.”

She smiled a little and settled down. “Alright. Goodnight, Rumplestiltskin.”

He closed his eyes, smiling a bit. “Goodnight, Belle.”

~*~

She woke with a start in the dark room, a cool finger immediately pressed to her lips. “Shh…”

Belle looked up at Rumplestiltskin, who was perched over her now. Her heart thundered, breath catching immediately as she looked at him.

His sweet amber eyes caught in the gentle light from the lamp in the corner. His hair fell around her face, soft, glinting with colors. She couldn’t breathe, caught in his beauty and succumbing to it.

“W-what are you doing?” She stammered, desperately trying not to lean into his gentle fingers gliding along her cheek.

“Do you want me to leave you, dearie?” He whispered, cool hands roaming over the soft silk of her gown, pressing just enough on her breasts and her ribs. His voice rattled her bones, the soft growls making her skin tingle all over.

“N-no,” she stammered, staring up at him. “No, I, I don’t want you to go.”

He smiled at her, eyes dark and hungry. She groaned softly sliding her thumb over his lips, his chin, staring at him in rapture. He kissed her thumb, grinning at her.

His fangs slid out, a low growl brewing in the back of his throat. Her legs spread underneath him, heat working through her body. She shivered, watching as he lightly bit her thumb, flicking his tongue against the drop of blood that had bloomed there. He purred at her taste, a broad hand on her back to pull her closer.

His eyes flicked to her lips, his free hand sliding down her chest and her stomach. He pushed the hem of her nightgown up, cold fingers gently sliding over the front of her underwear, teasing her lips.

“Rumple,” she moaned, leaning up to kiss him. Her heart leapt, body shaking under the intense passion in his lips, the delicious feeling his fingers teasing her wetness. He pulled her panties aside slipping fingers into her.

He pulled away with a growl, fangs out again. Belle tipped her head on instinct, nodded quickly, whimpering. “Bite me. Bite me, Rumplestiltskin, please!”

His eyes flashed with primal hunger and he snarled.

She felt his fangs sink into her throat and she screamed in ecstasy-

~*~

Belle jolted awake, panting, sweating, so much heat between her legs she could hardly sit still. She touched her neck, finding it unmarked.

The vampire was still sound asleep on the sofa, or he looked to be at least She didn’t know if he’d heard her or not, or if she’d made a sound at all. Either way she was utterly embarrassed with herself.

She slid out of the bed, tiptoeing into the bathroom.

Hands splayed on the counter, panting freely now, she forced herself to make better sense of what had just happened to her.

Belle pushed her thick hair away from her sweaty face, panting. The dreams. He’d told her about the dreams she would have about him. The...the blatantly sexual dreams that would leave her writhing like this at the sink.

Belle swallowed, twisting her hair up behind her head and splashing cool water on her face.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, dearie…” He sounded so close, like he was speaking directly into her ear. She shivered again, licking her lips. His blood was so strong…

She turned on the shower, keeping her hands off herself while she undressed. It wasn’t right, to fantasize about someone in the next room when he’d only been trying to help her. All he’d done is help her, and the past two nights had been heaven compared to the Hell of the basement, and she couldn’t possibly betray that.

But god, it was so hard. Even under the water. Her skin was so hot… She felt a cool hand sliding around her waist, arms engulfing her completely.

“Mmn…”  His voice purred. “So soft. Pale, and warm. And you smell incredible.” Icy lips ghosting over her shoulders and down her throat. “Sweet virgin blood fermented with your kindness, Belle. It’s beautiful. You’re so beautiful-

Belle sighed and shook her head, sending him away with it. Still too tired to be standing upright.

She washed her skin, hair still up, trying not to think about how beautiful the vampire in the next room was and focus on things she’d like to ask him instead. She’d try to stay away from things like his family this time. She didn’t want to see that look in his eyes again, she hated it so much.

Her life had been so simple some time ago. And...horrible, really. She found ways to smile every day, lost herself in books that made her problems seem less, made them seem so so far away and nearly nonexistent until she put it down again.

She missed going to see her mother. She missed sitting in front of her grave and reading to her every day, like she’d promised she would. She wondered vaguely if she missed her.

Despite her grief, despite her mother barely being in the ground her father wanted her to marry a man she had nothing in common with. Nothing to want in way of a husband. Handsome, fine, and wealthy, sure, but she didn’t love him. She couldn’t possibly love him. Arrogance seeped from him like pus, superficial nonsense constantly pouring from his lips. His reasons for wanting her were lustful. Each time she asked him what he wanted to marry her so badly for, and each time he droned on about how pretty she was and that was all.

Always told to keep quiet, to hush, to let the men figure things out, to do as she was told so as not to make any waves. Just read your books, Belle.

Read books and never see anything else in the world.

She’d never go back there. Not ever.

Belle put on another dress given to her, a dark blue with a red belt this time, covered in lace that cinched around her neck.

Once she was ready she stepped back out, and the vampire was still sound asleep on the couch. Belle stepped lightly over to the bookshelf, picking out a new book, glancing at him with soft eyes. She paused, setting the book down and righted the blanket that had slid off of him. She wondered what if he was comfortable, or if he always slept in a suit.

She carefully tucked the blanket back around him. It wasn’t necessary, but it felt right. Or maybe she was just trying to make up for her thoughts in the shower. She tiptoed back to the bed and started to read.

Rumplestiltskin had heard Belle in her sleep, and known perfectly well what they were for. He wouldn’t embarrass her, and he certainly wouldn’t try to act on anything, absolutely not. Sweet, gentle girl like Belle wouldn’t want anything to do with a monster like him. Not this way, anyway.

He’d slid back into a doze, trying not to think about her in any respect, his understanding of her academic interest in him keeping his mind from wandering farther.

But she put the blanket over him. She tucked him in.

Confused though he was he settled back with the quiet sound of Belle’s breathing and turning pages in the background, sleeping until nightfall as per usual. He needed his rest, after all.

He had vampires to punish.


	4. Shop Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin deals with the unruly vampires; Belle has an interesting conversation in The Rabbit Hole.

Their screams didn’t deter him. This was part of their punishment, and they’d take every moment of it. He adjusted the gloves on his hands, the silver blade in his palm covered in blood.

“A-all of this for some girl?!” Regina snarled. Rumple growled right back at her, slapping the blade across her cheek, grinning as she screamed and her skin sizzled.

“Oh, it’s not about the girl,” he smiled, eyes dark. “It’s about the blatant disrespect and disobedience you all showed in torturing that child.”

He shoved the blade into Regina’s shoulder and turned to Killian, shutting his eyes and listening to her screams as if they were music. His eyes were that much darker when they opened again, fangs drawn in a snarl, looking at him.

“And you,” he growled, twisting the silver chains around his neck. “I really expected more from you…” Killian grunted, glaring at him.

“Well, you know how well I do with authority,” he smirked.

Rumplestiltskin laughed. “Oh, I do, dearie. Which is why you’re getting this little lesson in the first place.”

“My king, please-”

“Wait your turn!” Rumple bellowed, snarling at Cora, turning back to Killian. “Treason, is nearly what you’ve all committed. As well as breaking human laws. Do you understand the mess you could have made with this? You’re lucky her family hasn’t come looking for her yet, luckier still that she is, in fact, still fucking alive!”

He ripped the blade from Regina’s shoulder and dragged it along Killian’s cheek, listening to the chains around their wrists rattle. “I will say, Captain,” he spat. “Silver is your color.”

The blade bit into his skin and Killian snarled. “Every color is my color. Your majesty,” he grunted.

The Dark One snickered, lifting his cane off the ground. “Always so charming, Captain. But you aren’t learning your lesson. Cora, is Killian learning what I’m trying to teach him?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at her.

She swallowed, looking between Killian and Regina, all bleeding onto the dirty concrete floor and gasping. The silver binding them all sizzled in the quiet, and Rumplestiltskin waited patiently. “No,” Cora finally spit out. “No, your highness, he isn’t.”

“Mother!” Regina spat. Killian winced, glaring at Cora, hurt. She looked away.

Rumplestiltskin grinned darkly, speaking through his teeth. “That’s what I thought.” He twisted the top of his cane and the handle slid  out, a needle at the end. “You’ve seen me do this before, haven’t you?” He asked, walking very close to the man whose arrogance seemed to vanish at the sight of the syringe. Killian nodded once, not taking his wide eyes from it. “And you know I’d never want to use it on any of you, don’t you?” Another nod. “Then don’t disappoint me like that again.”

With a loud click the handle went back into his cane.  He grabbed Killian by his jaw, bringing their faces close. “As your Maker, I command you to never harm or assist in harming Belle in any way ever again. Is that clear?!”

“Yes!” He grunted.

Rumplestiltskin turned to Cora. “And I extend the same orders to you, understood?” He snarled.

“Yes, your majesty,” she said breathily, but bitterly.

He jerked his head toward Regina. “Now tell her!”

Cora took a breath and looked at Regina. “Regina, as your maker, I command you to never harm or assist in harming Belle ev-ever again.”

Regina grunted her understanding, scowling at him. “Vengeful bastard.”

“Good.” He looked between them, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to have to do this? To have you all behave so heinously?” Killian and Cora bowed their heads, ashamed. “I understand that I’m not your first choice in makers, but that shouldn’t matter, should it?”

Though he was still a touch bitter, Killian spoke. “No. No, it shouldn’t. I’m sorry.” Rumplestiltskin shook his head in disappointment.

“If you care so much, why the hell do this?” Regina spat.

He chuckled and he limped toward the stairs. “Have a good night,” he called back brightly. “And good luck in the morning.”

“What?” Regina snarled. “You can’t just leave us here!”

He laughed. “Of course I can!” He grinned, looking at them. “But if you’d rather go through the Magister instead of me.”

She quieted immediately, and the others bowed their heads.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked, slowly climbing the stairs once more. “Think on your sins, little ones.”

The heavy door closed behind him with a sharp clack.

~*~

Belle had ventured downstairs to the actual bar, and she still wasn’t sure if she regretted the decision. In the sea of red and black clothes, all the leather and lace, she sat at the bar in a soft yellow blouse and a gray skirt. She tried ignoring all the hungry eyes on her, sipping her drink and waiting for Rumplestiltskin to get back from his ‘business.’

That’s what he told her it was, business, and the dark glint in his eyes kept her from asking too many questions about it. It really wasn’t her place to question the man who’d been so hospitable to her. At least at his juncture in their relationship.

“My, my, my…” A voice hummed behind her. “What a sweet little morsel you are.”

Belle turned, looking at the blonde woman who’d approached her. She was dressed in black leather and a purple lace, a dragon pendant holding the high collar of her jacket closed, the headband holding her curls back shaped like horns. “Um. Thank you?” Belle ventured, unsure and wary of the woman.

“So what’s a pretty little girl like you doing in a nasty vampire bar like this?” She asked, draping herself on a barstool and staring at her. Belle shifted, drawing into herself.

“I, um, I’m waiting for Rumplestiltskin,” she nodded, keeping her head up and her shoulders squared. The woman’s brows rose and she sat up straighter.

“Rumplestiltskin?” She repeated. “You’re waiting for the king?”

Belle’s brow pinched. “The...king?” She asked.

The woman laughed again. “Oh honey, you don’t know anything, do you?” Belle frowned.

“No need to be so rude,” she grumped, taking a long swallow of her drink.

“Oh, come on, don’t pout,” she chuckled, sipping a bottle of the manufactured blood. “I just think it’s amusing you’re waiting for him and you don’t even know who he is.” The woman searched her neck, eyes narrowing. “Are you his?”

“I’m not anyone’s, thank you,” she said defensively, though she had no idea what it meant. The woman chuckled again.

“Clearly,” she smiled. Belle set down her drink, thinking a moment. “What does that mean? Being ‘his’?”

“It means,” she said, straightening up. “That you’ve had his blood, he’s had your blood, and no one gets to hurt you because now he has a claim on you.”

Belle’s cheeks colored.  “Oh.” She took another drink. The woman cocked her brow at her.

“You sure you’re not his?” She chuckled.

“What? Yes!” She stammered. “Noth-nothing like that is-!”

“Maleficent, are you bothering my guest?” Rumplestiltskin asked of the woman, appearing suddenly behind them. Belle flushed a little deeper  and downed the rest of her drink.

“Troubling her?” The woman -Maleficent- smirked. “Of course not. I was just curious as to why this little gumdrop of a child was in a place like this.”

“Well, now I don’t think this is the worst place in the world for Belle to be. Everyone seems to have contained themselves enough not to bother her. Except for you, apparently,” he was smiling, but there was a bite to his words.

Maleficent smiled. “Everyone else is leaving her alone because they heard about the time out you have your progeny in because of her, so they’re keeping their distance.”

Belle looked at him, but didn’t ask anything aloud. He gave her a brief reassuring smile. “Maleficent, if you don’t mind, Miss French and I were leaving.” He offered Belle his hand and she took it, glancing at the vampire woman.

“Nice to meet you,” she said softly, giving her a polite smile. Maleficent chuckled.

“Pleasure’s all mine, hon.”

She watched the pair leave, eyeing them over her bottle.

“Who’s that with the king, darling?” Cruella asked, sitting beside her.

“And where the hell have you been?” Maleficent spat, ignoring her question.

“Detoxing, I know how you hate gin,” she huffed. shrugging her fur out of the way so she could get at her neck.

“While I’ve been guzzling this watered down fodder?” She spat, shoving the bottle down the bar and letting her fangs out.

“Now hang on!” Cruella spat, shrinking away from her. “I asked you who that was with the king! Can’t you answer me at least?”

Maleficent sighed. “Her name’s Belle. Little virgin girl that his progeny got for him and decided to help themselves. Tormented the poor girl. He saved her and punished them.”

“Isn’t that sweet,” Cruella chuckled. “So she’s his?”

“That’s the strange part, I don’t think she is.” She sighed impatiently. “Can I eat now or shall we continue our twenty questions about The Dark One?”

Cruella huffed and turned her neck, wincing when Maleficent bit her.

“Hey!” A dart struck the counter and Maleficent pulled away, glaring at the bartender who threw it. “None of that’s allowed in here and you know it, take it outside.”

Maleficent gave him a sickly sweet grin and stood, tossing money on the bar and slinging her purse over her shoulder. “So sorry, Graham,” she said with a false chuckle, taking Cruella by the arm and leading her out. She sneered. “God, I hate that he has wolves working here.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Cruella smiled. “Always had a soft spot for puppies.”

~*~

Belle walked along the quiet streets of Storybrooke, a latte warming her hands, heels clicking against the sidewalk in time with her companion’s cane.

She didn’t want to breach the subject of the dream she’d had last night, or ask if that would...fade at all. Not that she minded, she really...she really didn’t. She’d thought he was beautiful before tasting his blood, and it went beyond his whole saving her thing too. She didn’t see him as some angel or deity that had pulled her from Hell, she saw him as the man who’d taken mercy on her, saved her, and now was showing her very immense kindness, human kindness, in caring for her.

In the midst of her thoughts Belle decided to talk about easier things. “So… Maleficent told me you’re...the king?” He smiled a little, shaking his head.

“A king. Not the. Just one of many,” he chuckled. “I rule over this territory, that’s all.”

“Oh,” she nodded, understanding. “So, there are others.”

“Mmhm. There is a queen who presides over New York, named Ingrid. She and I get along rather well. Glinda and I on the other hand…” He chuckled, shaking his head. “But oh well.”

“How, how do you become vampire royalty?” She asked.

“Oh, some silly requirements The Authority puts in place. I never deal with them, haven’t for nearly a century,” he explained, waving it off. “They’re nothing to be concerned with.”

Belle nodded, folding her lips. “I’d...no idea, um… Am I supposed to address you a certain way, or?”

“God no,” he laughed. “No, no, Belle, you needn’t change anything about how you speak to me,” he assured.

“Good. I didn’t want to,” she smirked. He laughed. “She said something about your, um, your progeny?”

“Ah,” he nodded, smiling a little. “Yes. Vampires I have made. Killian and Cora are mine.”

Belle’s eyes grew. “They…?”

“I’m ashamed to say,” he nodded, pausing on the sidewalk. “I knew what they were capable of. I knew the cruelty that resides in them, it matches what is in me.” He spoke sincerely, his smile soft, eyes gentle. She believed him, of course, that he could be...dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. But he wasn’t with her. Not so far, anyway. “But I never thought they would go as far as to harm an innocent girl, not with such...malice as they had. But they’ve been adequately reprimanded for their behavior, I promise you. And they’ll never lay a hand on you again.”

Belle swallowed, trying not to think about what he might have done to them, what he thought was adequate punishment, though part of her was very aware of how much each of them deserved it. “You’re certain of that? That they won’t hurt me?”

He nodded. “I am. When a maker issues a direct order to a vampire they have made, the progeny absolutely must obey. If they try any sort of disobedience it causes them a great deal of pain. And the nature of the relationship often leaves them obligated to obey.”

“So, the...the connection made when you make another vampire is that strong? Like a parent?” She ventured. He nodded, smiling a little.

“Yes, very good. It can be a very different relationship as well, however. It simply depends on the nature of the Maker and the newly made vampire,” he explained. Belle nodded.

“So, it’s an intensely strong bond… Can it be severed?” She asked.

“Oh yes. If the maker dies, for instance, the vampire or vampires made by them would be released. Or, if the maker explicitly says, ‘as your maker, I release you.’ Those are the only two ways to break a bond like that,” he said. “In my case, my maker died. In Maleficent’s, she was released.

“I understand,” Belle nodded, smiling a little. They started walking again. “So if you made Killian and Cora, did Cora make Regina?” She’d heard Regina call her mother on several occasions.

The vampire beside her nodded, smiling again. So smart, this gentle girl. Ferociously intelligent… “Yes, she did. Rather than let her daughter lead her own life and make her own romantic decisions Cora turned her child into a vampire and forbade her to ever see the love of her life again. Regina watched him die in front of her.”

“That’s horrible,” she said quietly, sipping her coffee. “I...I can’t imagine losing someone you love like that. For no reason other than someone else’s selfishness.” She shook her head, frowning.

“Have you ever been in love, Belle?” He asked softly, a gentle question without accusation, just light curiosity.

“No,” she admitted. “But I’m hopeful for it. Someday.” She looked up to see where they were going, as she hadn’t been paying attention. They stopped in front of a shop with a sign over it that read “Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop.” She looked at him curiously.

“Yours?” She asked.

He smiled and held the door open for her, a little bell jingling when he did. “Indeed it is.”

Belle gave him a curious smile, a little wry, and went inside, looking around in wonder.

He watched her drift between the shelves, her small hands delicately touching the glass unicorns of a mobile, turning a lawn windmill. She smiled at him, cocking her head. “Why’d you bring me here?”

“I wanted to make you an offer,” he explained, smiling gently. “If you would run this shop during the day, I’d let you stay in my home with everything you need,” he promised.

Belle considered it a moment, watching him carefully. “And, hypothetically let’s say I didn’t want to run the shop?”

“Then you’re still welcome to stay with me if you so choose. Or, as I said, I’m more than happy to put you up at the inn,” he admitted shyly. “But I thought you might...like something like this. Keep your hands busy,  and there’s a lot of history here.”

There was absolutely no way Belle would stay in Mr. Gold’s house without doing something in return. It wasn’t who she was and it almost embarrassed her to even think of trying that. The past few days alone had been more than enough.

She smiled a little wider at him. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I think I’ll take your offer, Rumplestiltskin.” She held out her hand to him, to seal their deal. He smiled and took it, placing his other hand over hers as well.

“Thank _you_ , Belle. I’m glad to have your company. Truly I am.”

The way he smiled at her, the way he said her name mimicked her dream exactly and she fought a shiver, licking her lips. She wondered if her sleep tonight would be much of the same. She blushed a little, her hand a little chilled from his touch, but she liked it.

He cleared his throat, the pair of them realizing they were staring at each other. They shuffled, blushed, and he gestured to the door again. “My car’s just outside, if you’d like to see my home,” he offered. Belle nodded, grateful for the distraction.

“Of course.”

Back into the night, and then in a rather endearingly gaudy Cadillac Belle smiled to herself. Despite all of this...danger, the hazards she’d been through, she had hope. There was something about Rumplestiltskin, something that went deeper than the blood he’d given her, and she couldn’t wait to see what it was, if she was right.

All thoughts of her father were so far from her mind, she didn’t know she needed to worry about.

 


	5. Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As time passes Belle and Rumple grow closer, and forces begin to try and tear them apart. Namely, Belle's father.

Running Mr. Gold’s shop did prove to be incredibly interesting. He’d been correct in assuming the items alone would be enough to keep her attention, and the customers in this small town were very pleasant for the most part, if not a little wary at times.

Some were too polite, as if afraid she was reporting their every move to Rumplestiltskin, and some were very curt and rude, as if his actions directly reflected within her. She wondered if any of these people had tried to have a conversation with him. A conversation with him as a person and not some ominous darkness hellbent on destroying them given the chance.

During her week there she’d spent a great deal of time finding new and different things, looking each of them over between customers, utterly fascinated.

Each night she would go home and arrive just as Rumplestiltskin was rising, and they would talk for hours and hours on end. A few times their talks kept them both up until the sun came.

Belle had seen what vampires referred to as ‘The Bleeds’ for the first time just the day before. A drop of blood had slid from Rumplestiltskin’s ear down his jaw and she’d been so frantic with worry about his rest she didn’t stop shooing him to his room until he was safely in bed.

She loved listening to him talk, loved the conversations they had, how kind he was to her, the things he said to her that made her blush and look away but he never pressed it, especially when the blood in her was so fresh. Belle knew their connection went deeper than that, but she wasn’t sure she should say anything about it just yet.

Currently, however, Belle was turning over a gauntlet when the sun went down, the bell above the door tinkling seconds after it had dipped behind the trees.

“Have fun today, dearie?”

Belle looked up with a smile, watching Rumplestiltskin stride toward her. “I did,” she assured. “Although, I’m not sure ‘pawn shop’ is the right term for this place. Antique seems a much more appropriate moniker.”

Mr. Gold smiled at her, leaning on the counter across from her. “Is that so?” He smirked, eyes playful. Belle turned shy.

“Well, considering everything you have here, and well, it sounds less…” She searched for the word.

“Sinister?” He chuckled. She blushed and nodded. “I agree it would sound a little less dark, but darkness is sort of my nature, dearie.”

Belle giggled, charmed to say the least, and she had been since she met him. She understood the words should be a little more off-putting, and perhaps it was the blood still in her system that had her thinking that way. Or, it may well have been her understanding where his cruelty truly came into play rather than what he liked everyone to believe. Most of his dark behavior stemmed from defending someone innocent, or condemning someone who simply wasn’t. She’d yet to witness him be outwardly menacing to anyone that didn’t have it coming in the first place.

“Sure,” she smiled, rolling her eyes. “Remain intimidating, I understand.” She wasn’t even remotely afraid of him anymore, now that she’d seen the compassion he was capable of.

She held up the gauntlet. “Where’s the rest?” She asked, smiling curiously.

He chuckled and took it from her, holding it aloft. “The ‘rest’ was not nearly as important as this. This is a gauntlet said to come from Camelot itself.” Belle grinned and leaned on her elbows, watching with wide and mesmerized eyes. “And the legend says that, if used correctly, it will lead to a person’s greatest weakness. Often, for most people, it leads to the thing they love most.” His eyes drifted up to her. “So the legend says anyway.” He offered it back to her.

Belle took it gently, marveling at it. “Does it work?” She asked in a hushed, excited tone. He cocked his brow at her in slight disbelief. “What? Oh come on, you’re real, werewolves are real, magic could very well be too.”

He laughed, eyes trained on hers. “Belle, the only magic I’ve ever seen is your smile.”

Belle flushed again and turned away to put the gauntlet where she’d taken it from, pink to the tips of her ears. “Now, Mr. Gold, it’s improper to flirt with your employees.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he admitted, flipping the sign on the door from “open” to “closed.” “There, it’s after hours, you are not my employee.”

Belle set the gauntlet down and turned back to him, shaking her head. “Oh, that doesn’t count, I still work for you.”

“Well then you’re fired,” he teased, an edge of nervousness about him, waiting to see if she would decline his offer or not. It had been some time since he’d attempted courtship of a young lady, and even then it hadn’t been his easiest venture.

Belle grinned, pulling her coat on. “Good. Take me to dinner, then.” Her eyes lingered on him a moment, a wry little smile on her pink lips.

He watched her go, a stunned sort of smile finding its way to his expression. He took a breath, readying himself, and followed her.

He stepped out into the crisp night air, immediately sensing that something was wrong.

All at once, Belle screamed, a gun went off and he fell over snarling with a silver bullet embedded in his shoulder that bubbled and sunk into his skin further as it destroyed it. The shooter cursed, having missed its mark.

“Let me go!” Belle was yelling, and through his blurred vision she saw her trying to wrench away from a man with a red head. Or perhaps it was a cap. He shook his head out, trying to clear it and stand to stop him from pushing Belle into the back of a car.

The gun went off again and Belle cried out in surprise, terrified when she heard Rumplestiltskin’s cry of pain. “Stop it!” She tried to scramble back to her feet and run to him, but the man in the red hat grabbed her ankle and started pulling her toward the car again.

Belle kicked Mr. Smee right in the face, her heel catching his jaw and splitting it wide open. Another kick broke his nose. She scraped to her feet, throwing out her hand and screaming at the gunman.

“Father, stop!”

Moe was hastily backing away from Rumplestiltskin, who’d only been slowed down by the silver that was clearly only meant to cause him pain now.

“Belle, run!” He growled. She shook her head. “Now!” She only stayed still long enough to watch him rush her father and throw him across the road and into the side of the car before she started to run further into town, surprisingly agile in her tall, bloody shoes.

“HELP!” She shrieked, listening to more gunfire, and another roar of pain from the man who’d tried to save her again.

“Belle, stop!” Her father called. “Stop or I’ll shoot you too!”

She froze in horror, looking over her shoulder slowly.

The last bullet fired had caught Mr. Gold in his bad leg, his cane knocked away and standing would prove difficult. He grunted, his chest hitching, trying to drag his way between Moe and Belle.

“Don’t you fucking move anymore or I’ll shoot her, I swear to God!” Her father snapped. Rumplestiltskin stopped, staring at him in disbelief. Belle turned around, refusing to let this man be hurt for her, utterly destroyed looking down the barrel of the gun pointed at her.

“Papa?” She said, voice wavering as tears came to her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you home,” he said firmly, glaring between her and the vampire. “Away from this beast!”

Belle shook her head a little, looking so young and so frightened. “I don’t want to go home.”

“You only think you don’t,” he pressed, taking another step closer to her. “He’s used that vampire hypnotism on you, he’s making you want to stay!”

“No,” she whispered. “No, he hasn’t. He hasn’t done anything to me. He saved me, Papa! And where were you when the real monsters had me?”

“If you’re free then why are you still here?” He demanded. “Why didn’t you come home?”

“Why do you think?” Rumple snarled, panting, still positioned between them. Moe sneered and stepped over him, stomping hard on the bullet wound on his leg to get closer to Belle, who jerked toward the vampire. She glared at her father.

“Don’t hurt him! Hurt me, shoot me if you want,” she said, her voice breaking a little. “If that will make you happy.”

“You’re not yourself, Belle,” he sighed, impatient. “Can’t you understand that? You’d never do something like this, you’d never stay here with, with that thing!” He looked between them. “Are you...are you fucking him, is that it? Is my daughter some fangbanging whore?!”

Belle sobbed once. “It’s none of your business what I am!” She spat. “I don’t want to talk to you with that gun in my face!”

“Just get in the car, Belle. Get in the damn car and we can forget this ever happened.”

“No!” She barked, walking up to the gun so it almost touched her. Rumplestiltskin grunted, ignoring his pain and fighting to stand. “If I wanted to be home that’s where I would be. But I stayed here instead, I stayed with him. This is my life, I know that now, and I’m going to do whatever the hell I want with it! I want to be here, I want to stay with him, I want a life.”

“You have a life. With me- Belle, you’re engaged!”

The vampire frowned and Belle scowled.

“I’m not,” she grunted. I never said yes to him. I don’t want to marry him, I don’t want the life you’re trying to give me!” There were tears in her eyes. “No one decides my fate but me. So if you’re going to shoot me? Shoot me.”

“Belle…” He tried, searching for a way to plead with her. She shook her head again.

“Tell Gaston to fuck off. I don’t want him. I never wanted him. I don’t want to be his trophy, his prize. That’s not the life I want. That’s what you want. But I can’t- I won’t live that way. I won’t be anyone’s doll anymore.” She spoke firmly, her voice hard and unwavering.

Movement over Moe’s shoulder caught her attention.

Smee was moving again, a stake in his hand, his eyes trained on Rumplestiltskin and quickly making his way toward him.

“Rumple!” She cried.

The vampire whipped around, Belle was shoved to the asphalt and smacked her head against it.

Sounds all mixed together. She heard the clip of the gun empty, the stake find flesh and both her father and Smee scream. And then everything was deathly quiet.

Belle forced herself to sit up, head swimming a little. She tried desperately to focus, blinking rapidly and searching for the vampire. She prayed she wouldn’t see a pile of ligaments, marrow and blood that vampires turned into when killed.

Her father and Smee were unconscious against the building across from the pawnshop, and Rumplestiltskin  was bleeding on the ground, the entire clip of bullets in his body, the stake in his shoulder. He gasped harshly, shaking and panting on the asphalt.

She ran to him, calling his name again and kneeling beside him. Belle was wary to touch him for fear of hurting him. “What, what do I do? What can I do? How do I help you?” She stammered, panicking.

He tried to smile, tried to assure her of his well being. “Deep breaths, Belle, I’ll be fine. There’s, there’s some of that blood in a safe in the shop, if I can get to it-” He shook his head. “Take the stake out first. Can you do that for me, Belle?” He asked quietly, encouraging her.

“Y-yes,” she managed, wrapping her hand around it and cringing. She carefully edged it from his shoulder, shuddering at the horrific sound it made. He gritted his teeth to muffle his snarl of pain, breathing harder when it was out and forcing a smile.

“Good. That’s good, Belle, thank you,” he gasped.

She wasn’t looking at him, she was looking at his body, at the bullet wounds that sizzled audibly, his body not healing. “That fake blood isn’t going to make this better, is it?”

“It’ll do for now, Belle, just-”

“No.” She shook her head, then looked at him. “No, you, you need help now.”

Belle carefully lifted him into her arms, worried for him. He was pale, clearly wracked with pain and soaked in his own blood. If he didn’t heal fast something...something bad might happen that she didn’t want to think about.

She pulled her hair out of the way, baring her neck to him. “Drink.” His fangs clicked out immediately, hunger sparking in his bright eyes but he fought it, looking away.

“Belle, no.”

“Just do it,” she said quietly. “You won’t heal fast enough on that fake stuff, just do it.”

“I won’t, I won’t be like them,” he hissed, eyes closed. “I won’t use you.”

She shook her head again, cupping his face and looking into his eyes. “You aren’t anything like them, Rumple. I’m offering this to you. I’m...I’m giving my blood to you.”

“You don’t understand what that will mean,” he spat in a hushed voice.  

“What what means?” She sighed.

“If I have your blood, and you’ve had mine that means...that means you’re mine.” Belle remembered Maleficent’s question, and her father’s, how they’d asked if she was ‘His’ or not.

“So that’s what that means,” she said quietly. “I don’t care.”

“People will think-”

“To hell with people!” She spat. “I don’t care what they think, I don’t care if I’m yours! It just means more people will leave me alone so just fucking bite me, Rumplestiltskin!”

He only hesitated a moment to give her a shocked look of admiration before he bit her soft, pale, creamy neck.

Belle grunted in pain, just at first. It ebbed away to something different, something better. When those others had bitten her it had only been pure agony. She’d felt as if they were ripping her apart, but this?

Rumplestiltskin’s bite was almost like a deep kiss, deeper than anything she’d ever felt, and it was warm and careful, soft. The hand she’d placed on the back of his head in case his self control was altered in his weakened state began to pet his hair, her breath getting a little heavier as she felt her blood flow into his hot mouth and spilling over cool lips. Distantly, she heard the silver fall onto the asphalt with quiet ringing notes.

He pulled away before she had to say anything, and she was a little disappointed that he had. She swallowed, collecting herself and looking at him. “Better?” He nodded. “Good.”

Mr. Gold had felt Belle’s heart speed, felt the heat in her body shift and he could smell her hormones changing. The soft honey and sugar scent of her skin nearly gave him chills, and he’d loathed to unbury himself from something so pure, whole and beautiful.

He wiped the blood off his lips  with the handkerchief from his breast pocket and offered it to her. She wiped her neck with a gracious smile, sighing when sirens began to approach.

“Now she shows up,” Rumple muttered, taking his cane when Belle handed it to him and slowly stood with her aid. He pricked his finger on one of his fangs, pressing a drop of his blood into each puncture on her neck to heal it.

“Thank you,” she said graciously, looking back at her father and his companion. “I’m pressing charges.”

“Good,” he nodded. “As you should.”

“As you should,” she said pointedly. He shook his head, waving it away.

“Vampires have it hard enough in these small towns without having to do some sort of night court nonsense. If any judge had to meet after sundown it wouldn’t bode well for the vampire trying to gain justice. A sweet young girl like yourself, however, is an entirely different matter.”

“For both of us, then,” she resolved, looking at her bloodstained blouse with a sigh. “Well it was nice.”

“I can get you another,” he promised, following her gaze down the street as Sheriff Swan parked and got out, approaching them slowly.

“Thank you,” Belle said quietly. The Sheriff took in the scene, then looked at Rumplestiltskin.

“Again, Gold?”

“Now why do you assume this was my fault?” He spat, voice dark and demanding.

“They attacked us,” she interjected, pointing to the bloodied stake and bullets on the ground.

Emma frowned. “Do you know these guys?”

“That one’s my father. The one in the hat works for him. They tried to kidnap me and attacked Mr. Gold,” she explained. Emma looked at the fallen men, then at the blood on Belle’s shirt, her skin still stained where blood had been. It didn’t take much to piece it together.

“Got it,” she nodded, taking a breath. “So, restraining order?”

~*~

“Are you alright?” Rumple asked, walking out of the police station with her. She nodded.

“Hit my head, but I’m fine. I’m...I’m really sorry that he...did that to you,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know he’d do something like that, I didn’t know he was capable of hate like that, it’s not fair.”

He gently touched Belle’s shoulder. “It’s not fair to either of us, dearie.” She went quiet, walking to his car with him. He pursed his lips. “I’m sorry our date got ruined,” he added, looking at her.

She smiled a little, and his heart relaxed a bit.

“The night’s still young,” she nodded, getting into the passenger seat. “And I want greasy food and a lot of liquor.”

He chuckled and started the engine. “Well luckily I know a place to get all that for free.”

Belle was glad to be going back to The Rabbit Hole for once. At this particular moment, she felt safer around vampires than she did humans.

 


	6. Dear Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While trying to get to know each other better Belle has the privilege to meet some of Rumplestiltskin's "close" friends. Some more familiar than others.

Belle tossed another shot back, swallowing roughly, her face pinching at the burn and she shook her head to get through it.

“Alright, dearie?” Rumplestiltskin chuckled, watching her idly.

“Oh, I’m great,” she assured, reaching for the bigger drink she had and sucking off some of the salt on the rim. “My father tried to kidnap me, kill you, I had to file for a restraining order and now by vampire standards I have a five-hundred year old boyfriend. Great night,” she laughed.

After stopping off to change out of their bloody clothes they’d come back to the Rabbit Hole, their real date not involving vampire culture pushed off to another night, since Granny’s closed at seven, which irked the vampire.

“I’m so sorry, Belle, I-I’ll make it up to you,” he swore, nervous she wouldn’t want to try again or resent him entirely for this her now “belonging” to him thing. Belle had smiled that warm, dazzling little grin of hers and touched his cold hand, which made his dead heart fight not to beat at the sight of it.

“You can start with drinks and bar food and then we’ll see how tomorrow goes.” She bit her lip and grinned through her lashes before hopping off into the bar.

He smiled at her now, watching her tap the bar to ask for more fries, kicking her feet a little, as they didn’t touch the support bar or the floor.

“I am sorry,” he repeated, likely for the thirtieth time. He stopped himself from apologizing again for being annoying. “About how all of this played out.”

“Please don’t blame yourself, Rumplestiltskin,” she pleaded, touching his arm. “I promise you, I don’t blame you. Not for what he did, and not for letting you feed on me. It’s alright. I...I don’t mind so much,” she promised. “I just...Nevermind.” She blushed, looking back at the bar.

“Oh, come now, tell me,” he pressed, smiling at her and leaning a little closer.

“Well, I… I thought that if we were to… date and things… went well enough that, that the first time you bit me would be… I dunno, special.” Belle blushed and he, now all too familiar with the delicious sweetness of her blood had to stop himself from groaning outright.

“That… that is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” he chuckled, reaching for her hand and pressing a little kiss to her fingers. “If, and I mean if, there’s no pressure at all, you so choose for us to see each other regularly, and you feel close enough to me, I promise you, next time will be special.”

He set her hand down and Belle giggled, a little tipsy and trying not to swoon. “Thank you, Rumplestiltskin,” she smiled.

A fresh basket of fries was slid in front of her and she gave Graham a smile and a thank you, eating happily. “Mm, is the person in the kitchen human?” She asked.

“Of course,” he nodded. “Bit ridiculous for someone who doesn’t eat to cook for human patrons.”

Belle giggled. “Well you never know! I didn’t know if there were vampire chefs or not.”

“Not many, and I don’t think the delicacies they procured would be something… moral,” he grinned. Belle shuddered a little.

“Bleh.” She wrinkled her nose and took another drink. Rumplestiltskin found himself watching her again. Her sweet blood thundered along through his veins, and it was just as soft and kind as the woman it came from.

It made him all the more in tune with her body, with the soft scent of her skin and the savory, lush allure of the blood just underneath. Honey, vanilla, lilac, all wrapped up in soft ivory. Delicate as she appeared he knew there was more to her. A bite. Steel underneath all of this silk. Intricately embroidered silk over absolutely unyielding steel. That was Belle.

She looked over at him, the apples of her cheeks kissed pink from drink, attracting looks from vampire passerby, but a close enough breath of her scent would reveal that of the king’s, and they shrunk away.

“Something wrong?” She asked, noting the sort of dreamy look he had.

“Hm? Oh, no. Nothing, dear,” he assured.

Belle giggled. “You were staring.”

“Can you blame me?” He said without really thinking but he kept his own shy smile.

“You flatter me, Mr. Gold,” she said quietly, smiling behind her drink.

“Oh, my dear Belle, you don’t need flattery to accentuate your beauty. One look at you is enough.

Belle giggled, shaking her head. “Now which one of us has been drinking, Mr. Gold.”

“I’m sorry,” he smiled at the counter. “It appears you blood makes me sappy.”

“Oh, so this isn’t you talking?” She asked, ducking her head to meet his eyes. “Just the blood?”

“No, no, of course not,” he assured. “It’s certainly helps.”

Helps?” She asked, leaning closer.

He smiled again, shy himself now. “It’s hard, to… to talk to you sometimes. Particularly when you smile at me like that.” Belle’s blush deepened, and the scent of her blood became stronger.

Belle smiled and looked away. “You need to bring this up again when I’m fully sober, Rumplestiltskin.”

“You’re quite right. I’ll try to hang on to this courage.”

“Courage? Now how do you need courage, Rumple, you’re a vampire. You’re a king of vampires, and you need courage?”

He laughed, swallowing. “It has been many, many years since I’ve… courted-” The contemporary word was lost to him. “-a  beautiful young woman like yourself, I suppose.”

Belle giggled again. “‘Courted’, Mr. Gold?”

“I told you it’s been awhile,” he laughed. Belle grinned with him and turned shyly into her drink again. They both went quiet, smitten and smiling.

“There you are, my King!”

The voice was loud and abrupt amongst the thudding music and general crowd sounds and both Belle and Rumplestiltskin turned toward it, but it was Rumple who was very suddenly embraced-- and kissed.

He gave a startled sound at first, at least before he recognized this kissing assassin, and Belle watched his and the dark-haired man’s lips press together in a familiar dance.

The man was finely dressed, Belle evaluated while standing there in shock, and Rumple had one hand on the small of his back, the pair of them pressed close for a moment that seemed to last a lot longer than a few seconds.

The man released Gold’s mouth with a drag of his teeth, smiling a dark little grin that glinted his bright eyes. Now that Belle was able to see him she could appreciate the way he looked a bit more. The man’s lips were full and pink, eyes an electric blue with a dusting of stubble along his jaw. He straightened the king’s jacket with that same coy grin, tapping his chin.

“Miss me, Dark One?” He goaded, Adam’s apple bobbing over the silk scarf at his throat.

Rumplestiltskin was glancing between him and Belle, stifling a grin and righting his hair. “Jefferson, what have I told you about doing that?”

“I couldn’t help myself,” he pouted. “You’re just too delicious, isn’t he delicious?” He asked Belle, who jumped out of her stupor.

“Hm? O-oh, I um- I mean I suppose-”

“Belle this is Jefferson. Jefferson, Belle. We’re… old friends,” he explained, flushed a little, slightly embarrassed.

Jefferson grinned at Belle again, then looked between them, lips pursed. “Ooh, shit. She’s yours, isn’t she? Oh, look at what I’ve done. Come between another relationship. I’m really going to have to stop that sometime.”

“She- She’s not precisely mine, Jefferson,” he explained. The man grinned.

“Oh yes she is,” he wrinkled his nose with his smile. “Or she wants to be. You certainly want her to be, dontcha?” He was playful, teasing.

Belle laughed a little and Jefferson turned his full attention to her. He smiled again and his fangs clicked out but he quickly covered his mouth. “Ooh, sorry, sorry. That’s so rude of me but you smell so good. God, it’s like a bakery and him,” he nodded back to Rumple. “Absolutely delicious.” He gently took Belle’s hand and kissed it when his fangs disappeared again. “Enchante.”

Belle pinked and he whined.

“How do you contain yourself around this dripping honeysuckle, your majesty!” He pouted, then giggled.

“I manage.” Rumple’s eyes were warm, his smile soft and amused, unlike how he looked at the other vampires Belle had seen him interact with, and she understood then that he liked Jefferson. After all, he hadn’t pulled away from that kiss.

“So, is this a date?” Jefferson asked, turning back to Rumple. “Is that what’s happening? Instead of just snatching her up like a baby vamp crying mine-mine-mine we’re dating first? Because that’s just too sweet.” Rumple rolled his eyes.

“Yes, we’re dating. I personally would like a relationship not entirely fueled by bloodlust,” he said. Jefferson laughed.

“Oh come now, there’s something to that!”

“Yes, sex,” both Belle and Rumple said at once, then grinned at each other.

“Precisely!” Jefferson cackled, turning to Belle. “I do apologize though. What you must think of me, barging in and kissing your date like that. Bad, naughty vampire am I. You must think I’m an absolute bastard.”

“Oh no, no, you didn’t know,” Belle assured sweetly, taking another gulp of her drink and looking to the werewolf behind the bar for another one. “And I- Well, it could have been worse to watch,” she said shyly.

Jefferson giggled and leaned on the counter, as if talking with her in secret. “He’s something, isn’t he?” He smirked. Belle glanced over his shoulder at Rumplestiltskin, who still looked amused. She smiled a little more.

“Oh yes, he’s…incredible,” she grinned. Jefferson smiled and looked back at the king, and from that angle Belle could see the thin scar that wrapped around the front of his throat.

“Hear that, your highness, she thinks you’re incredible,” he smiled, winking at him. Rumplestiltskin scoffed. “What, I’m helping!”

“You think I need help?” He smirked, looking at Belle, who at this point was just going to dissolve and melt into the bar or faint. The way his eyes just...pierced her and Jefferson was speaking so low and encouraging this… She swallowed.

“You know, your highness, I think you have a type,” Jefferson said, regarding her a moment. He stood beside her, presenting both of their faces to him. Belle was still burning with liquor and her own shyness.

The vampire king took a step forward and held both of their chins on his fingertips, looking at them as one might a precious jewel, or something equally desirable. Big blue eyes, soft and noticeably pink lips, their sharp jaws and high cheekbones… He smiled, brushing his thumbs against each of their cheeks.

“I suppose there are some similarities,” he admitted softly. He chuckled. “That is rather amusing, isn’t it?” He said, letting them go. Belle immediately went to her drink and took two big gulps. Jefferson laughed low in his throat. “It does make sense, however. I only want the best.”

Belle giggled, shaking her head at the two of them. She wasn’t jealous, she understood the nature of his and Jefferson’s relationship and that it wasn’t really ongoing. He would’ve mentioned if there were anything so serious as that.

She felt that perhaps once, not so far in the past, they had been something a little more. But even then it had been playful and fleeting, and she would be right. She wondered if they had sought out comfort with each other that stemmed from pain. She felt it in Jefferson that he had suffered much, and the scar on his neck was testament enough to that.

Jefferson straightened up from the bar and sighed. “Well, the night is young and a boy’s got to eat. I’ll see you both around, I hope?” He grinned. “It was an absolute delight to meet you, darling.”  He kissed the corner of Belle’s mouth and then Rumple’s. “Last ones! I swear.”

He laughed and hummed himself out of the bar, plucking a large, eclectic sort of top hat from the rack before disappearing.

Belle sighed, shaking her head. “Well that was...interesting.”

Rumple sat down beside her, making eye contact with Graham and nodding to him. A bottle of synthetic blood was placed on the counter seconds later. “Yes, well, Jefferson does tend to keep things interesting.” He smiled a little.

“Can I ask where the, um…?” She drew her finger across her neck.

He pursed his lips. “Jefferson was turned during a riot in France during the first Revolution,” he explained. “His young daughter Grace was also turned. There was blood everywhere then, dying people flooded the streets of Paris, cobbles soaked in it… With young vampires abound as they were some were going to get caught. Jefferson and Grace were two of them.

“Once they were all rounded in the square, at the base of the guillotine, each vampire was beheaded one by one. Each head that dropped exploded with all the marrow and veins and fat, and each remaining vampire was thrown on top of the carnage.

“By the time it came to Jefferson and Grace, the blade was horrifically dull. He demanded to die watching the blade come for him, but it didn’t go all the way through. The people watching were horrified and ran off, but not before staking the remaining monsters. Including little Grace.”

The vampire bowed his head, shaking it. “Jefferson feasted on the men that had taken his daughter’s life, but he’s never forgiven himself for not getting that massive blade out of his neck in time to save her. It’s a shame.”

Belle stared at the door. He’d smiled so much…

“How did you two-?”

Before she could get the question out the second person of the evening interrupted them, and this time Rumplestiltskin looked very displeased to hear the sharp, “There you are!”

A woman. Older than Belle with reddish-blonde hair and wild eyes, too thin and a little shaky. A drug addict perhaps? But why was she… Oh.

Belle had heard about humans who took vampire blood for recreation, not for healing. Apparently it induced an effect so euphoric it couldn’t compare to anything else. It was also the most addictive drug to be found anywhere in the world as of this moment, and the news was riddled with stories of vampires being found completely drained and wrapped in silver.

The woman had a large bag clutched tight to her side and had only been speaking to different vampires around the bar the last time Belle had seen her. She’d seen here here a few times actually but she’d never gotten this...close.

“Zelena,” Rumple said with a tight smile. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Oh, I know you saw me here, wicked thing you,” she chuckled, raking her eyes over him and utterly ignoring that Belle even existed. “You never do say hello. Rather rude.”

She was standing very, very close to the vampire beside her and it bothered her. Not out of jealousy but out of a sense of, well, danger, about her.

“Not my intention to be rude,” he said, his eyes dark, smile a dangerous tweak in his cheek. He was uncomfortable, enough to reach for his cane in case he needed to put it between the two of them if necessary. “But I suppose I could do with a lesson in tact. Is there something you needed?”

“I can’t just come say hello?” She asked with a mock pout and a sickly sweet tone.

“Well, you don’t usually,” he chuckled. She scoffed.

“Don’t be so dramatic, your highness,” she chuckled, putting an attempted playful hand on his knee. He tensed. “No, no, I simply...wanted to know if you’d like some...company.”

Her hand made the barest twitch to move further up his leg, and though Belle was highly aware of how quickly and efficiently Rumplestiltskin could get her hand off of him, she reacted with the violent surge of anger that flashed inside her.

“Hello,” Belle said suddenly, hopping off her seat and taking a step between them so she had to back up. “Don’t want to be rude too,” she smiled. The woman sneered down at her, and looked right over her head.

“Who is this?” She demanded.

Belle hopped on her tiptoes to meet her eyes again. “Hi, I’m down here, actually. My name’s Belle. And you’re Zelena? Is that right?”

“Yes,” she spat, forced to acknowledge her.

“Nice to meet you.” She looked back at Rumple a moment, and he gave her a grateful, albeit worried, smile. “So how do you know Rumple?”

The woman’s eyes widened and her nostrils flared. “How do I know the King? We’re dear friends.”

“Hm. That’s funny. I’ve been living with him awhile now and he’s never mentioned you.” She smiled pleasantly at her, grateful for alcohol for making her so bold right now.

Zelena’s anger deepened but she kept her manic smile and Rumple fought back a laugh. “Living with him, you say?”

“Mmhm!”

“A little mouse like you?”

“That’s enough-”

“A perfectly good little mouse like me, yes,” Belle bit back immediately.

“But you’re- You- I don’t understand,” she said in an almost tantrum like tone, pouting.

“Zelena, you and I spoke about this at length some time ago,” he said. “Whatever you may think...it’s not the truth. It’s what you think is the truth, remember? Now...please get out of here before I ask my wolf friend Robin to empty the contents of your bag and report whatever they may find.” His eyes were dark, voice hard and verging on a snarl. “We’ll talk more later.”

She glared at Belle, who was still smiling, and stalked away, muttering to herself as she left.

Belle sat back on the stool with a sigh. “Who the hell was that?” She asked, looking up at him. He pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“Zelena. Addicted to V, harassed every vampire in here for blood more than a hundred times, and no matter what I manage to do to her, she ends up back here. She has this...infatuation with me. I think she believes me to be more than I am. And she’s thoroughly convinced my blood is somehow better  than other vampires because of my title,” he explained, not taking his eyes off the door. Belle shrugged.

“Well I like it.”

He barked a laugh, looking at her. “You...are so special, Belle,” he remarked. “You...defended me, why?”

Belle shrugged, looking in her empty glass. “She was making you uncomfortable. She touched you and you didn’t want her to I...I didn’t want her to either so I…”

“People don’t do that often,” he said quietly. “Defend me.”

“Is it bad that I did, then?” She asked, looking at him with bright curiosity in her eyes.

He smiled warmly and carefully took her hand in his, just holding it. “No, Belle. It’s good. It’s ever good.”

 


	7. The Second Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has another...interesting dream; Zelena makes her motives known.

“Shh…”

Belle shivered, staring up into the dark eyes of her vampire, watching him carefully. His cold hands slid down her back, his lips caressing her throat and her chest. She pulsed with pleasure, staring at him in the dim light of the lamp, touching his hair and his face.

He’d pulled her into his lap, his length rutting against her lips and making her quake, holding tight to her back. “Do you want me to stop, Belle?” He whispered, mouth ghosting against hers as he spoke. Belle shuddered and shook her head, flushed and panting softly.

“Please, Rumple,” she begged, surging up to kiss him.

He groaned, hands tightening on her back. He thrust up into her and her head fell back, her breath stuttering. “Rumple!”

“Mmn, how she says your name, your highness…” Jefferson purred in her ear, smiling at him through his lashes. His lined eyes were just as bright as hers, his lips soft against her ear. “I told you he likes you, Belle,” he growled, bare and pressed against her back.

Belle whimpered, rocking with each of Rumplestiltskin’s thrusts into her, her head falling back on Jefferson’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Rumple grinned, leaning in closer. “You’re next.”

Belle watched with a groan as the two men kissed, Rumple’s hand holding tight to Jefferson’s jaw, fingers sliding down the column of his throat as it continued. Jefferson’s hands cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples in his thumbs, all the while slipping his tongue into Rumplestiltskin’s mouth.

The vampire thrusting into her growled against his mouth, biting his lip and Belle whined, shaking a little.

They broke apart and immediately turned their lips on her neck and her collarbone. She groaned, stubble and silken lips gliding over her goosebump riddled skin. She felt Rumplestiltskin’s teeth dig into her skin and she gasped, snapping her hips against his. Jefferson’s constant stubble sent shivers down her spine, his tongue sliding up from the base of her throat to behind the hinge of her jaw.

“She is so beautiful,” he whispered, biting her earlobe. Rumple purred in agreement.

“Isn’t she?” He said softly, growling in her other ear. She choked on her breath. “That’s why I’ve kept her, why I wanted her. She is perfect in every way. You can taste her kindness…”

Jefferson chuckled. “May I taste you, Belle?” He whispered. She nodded, still shaking with each tweak his fingers gave her nipples.

He grinned, fangs out and bit her shoulder. Belle gasped, her lashes fluttering in pleasure. It was different than Rumple’s bite. Not a kiss this time but a rough, hasty grind against the back wall of somewhere, much like the roughness of his stubble.

Rumplestiltskin lifted her chin, a wicked smile on his lips. “Does it feel good, Belle?” He asked quietly. She nodded. “As good as mine?” She shook her head. “That’s my girl. Good girl…”

He bit her just against her pulse and she cried out in pleasure. The rough thrusts, the bites, the blood trickling down her skin.

“Thank you, Belle,” Jefferson growled, her blood on his lips. He turned her and kissed her, smearing her own blood against her mouth. Belle moaned with desire, losing her breath entirely when Rumple turned her face away and claimed her mouth again for his own.

Belle gasped when he let go, falling back against Jefferson again. “Oh, the way he looks at you, Belle,” he whispered. “I’ve never seen him look so enthralled with a human before. With anyone.”

Rumple grabbed Jefferson by his hair and yanked him into another kiss, the both of them sucking her blood off the other’s lips. Rumple slid his tongue along his throat, his breath stuttering when Belle started to kiss his neck. His free hand slid into her hair, groans falling into Jefferson’s mouth.

She bit at the base of Rumple’s throat, gasping when he moaned and fucked her harder.

Jefferson squeezed her breasts, releasing one. He slid fingertips down her arm and carefully moved it aside. He kissed down her neck, her chest, the swell of her breast and flicked his tongue against her instead.

Belle gasped, her breaths coming in short little bursts. Rumple caught her lips again, coaxing her tongue out and cradling her face. He looked at her as if the sun rose and fell just to put light in her eyes.

Belle’s hand slid into Jefferson’s hair, the other gripping The Dark One’s shoulder tight to give herself leverage. Jefferson groaned, moving so he was more beside the both of them rather than solely behind her. He dragged his teeth along Rumple’s torso, his hand on the small of Belle’s back to keep her upright.

Belle watched him suck, bite and taste Rumple’s skin and the craving for it moved her to suck and kiss behind his ear.

Gasping, sweating, a whirlwind of pleasures she could hardly fathom and breathe through, Belle was soon on her back, Rumple still moving inside of her with Jefferson behind him. Lips and fingers slid over her vampire’s golden skin as Jefferson worshipped his king, hands on his hips.

“Belle,” Rumple purred, arching with Jefferson’s touches, turning his head for another deep kiss that he broke away from when Belle’s blunt nails dragged down his chest. “Oh! Belle, Belle, Belle-”

~*~

“Belle!”

She sat up fast, sweating and panting and very disappointed the two vampires were gone. She looked to who woke her and-

She paled, covering her mouth. “Rumple, I…”

He looked shy, a little...flustered even. “You, um, you were… Are you alright?” He asked gently. “I’m sorry, I heard the noise and I thought you were in trouble but, um...seems I was...wrong.”

He must have come from his bedroom down the hall, sun filtering through the windows behind him that he was careful to avoid. Belle flushed so deeply she was nearly purple.

“I, I’m fine. S-side effects,” she stammered, her head pounding from her bout of drinking the night before. “You, you should get back to sleep, it’s still morning.”

He smiled at her, eyes darkened just a little, smile a little more wry. “Of course. I’m glad you’re alright, Belle.” He limped to the doorway, moving to close the door. “Pleasant dreams.” He winked, and left her.

Belle let out her breath and fell back on the bed, covering her face. She should be more embarrassed, but right now there was an unbearable wetness and heat between her legs she needed to deal with. She slid her hand down her body, slipped the panties from her hips and worked to remember the details of her dream, so far gone she forgot that Rumplestiltskin’s room was light proof, not sound proof.

~*~

Zelena was an envious woman. She thirsted for more, for greatness, for the chance to prove herself to a beautiful creature that she was worth it, that she could be trusted with such power. But, no, no, he didn’t believe in her.

Cora had wanted her. Cora had found her in the boutique she worked in with those other women who promised sisterhood through their coven, through their magic but she was deemed unworthy of that too. Cora spoke to her so nicely, felt the power within her, the potential.

“My dear girl, what a precious child you would make,” the woman had said.

“Child?” Zelena blinked from her place behind the counter. Cora chuckled and smiled, revealing her fangs.

“Yes, of course, a child. My dear Regina needs a sister. Such a bratty only child she makes and you, my dear, oh you would be just perfect. Such promise within you…” She’d praised, and Zelena felt her worth, her ego, swell once more.

“And you...you want to make me like you? A…” She leaned in. “Vampire?”

Cora chuckled again. “Yes, my dear, a vampire. Only, well...My maker has forbidden me to make another vampire without his permission. He’s commanded me, you see. Regina was a little...out of hand when I first made her, and he thought it best to approve my decisions first. I’m sure he’ll adore you. He has an eye for perfection.”

Zelena was so hopeful. All her life she’d known she’d been special. She’d wanted to prove that with all of her might. Mummy always said she was perfect, Father only made her feel like there was something wrong with her. Something he feared.

She thought becoming a witch would help fuel some of her anger, though Glinda wasn’t sure she could control her magic enough to take that step. She was learning, little by little, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed control and power. She needed to be special.

And Rumplestiltskin made her feel incredibly unique.

“Now, I’m not going to just give you a once over and let Cora do something rash,” he’d said upon meeting her. “What I’m going to do instead, is groom you for this gift. Make sure that you can handle every respect of this power, so I know you can handle it.”

“Is that what you did with Cora?” She’d blurted, stepping closer to him, ignoring the half-step back he took from her.

“Yes,” he nodded. “It’s precisely what I did with Cora. And if she is to be your maker then I’ll give you the same training. If she sees in you what she saw in Regina then I can only imagine you’ll be just as promising.”

Zelena frowned. “You, you trained Regina? But Cora said-”

“Cora didn’t know what she was doing,” he laughed. “She gave power to a young woman already scorned and riddled with anger and tried to make up for her maternal misgivings. Regina left a trail of corpses behind her before I could get my hands on her, I won’t have that happen again. Now, let’s begin.”

Zelena tried to learn all she could from him. About patience, warding off the urge to go into a frenzy no matter how starved one might be. He taught her everything about vampire culture, explaining consequences for murdering one of their own kind as well as humans, especially now that vampires were so publicly known.

He praised her and she blossomed under it, found herself praying for night to come just to see him, to prove to him that she was good enough and maybe… Oh maybe he would want her for himself. Not that she didn’t want to be Cora’s daughter. Her doting mother had died when she was young and to have that again would be...wonderful.

But there was something so alluring about Rumplestiltskin, his regality, his presence, his beauty, and she wanted it all to herself. She wanted to keep it, to harness it. When she looked at him she found herself wanting to pin him in a case, like a preserved butterfly, where only she could see. Keep that smile on his face he gave her when she’d improved forever. Just for her, and not _Regina_.

God, she was constantly compared to Regina. Perfect little Regina, such a good pupil Regina. He wouldn’t tell her anything about Killian but Regina had perfect control, Regina had heart and strength where Zelena was manufacturing it.

“No!” He’d barked, glaring at her. “There is no getting away with it, there is no excuse for harming an innocent human being. You don’t take what doesn’t belong to you, dearie.”

“But we- you are stronger than they are! What does all the strength, all the power matter if you can’t even use it! I thought you were The Dark One!” She demanded, standing too close again, attempting to back him into the corner but he didn’t yield to her.

“Careful, Zelena,” he snarled. “You don’t have this gift yet. This isn’t the dark ages anymore. This isn’t the time of bloodshed and frivolity, this is a time of control and contentment. The real power is in restraint. Now you can either show it, or _get out._ ”

She just didn’t understand. What was the point of it, then? What could she look forward to? Perhaps...perhaps if she played along, perhaps if she could get the opportunity to show him what she meant, show him that fragile human lives meant nothing and they could take everything they wanted-!

All she thought about was him. His approval, his wants, his needs, his desires. She forgot Cora entirely and envied Regina so much the thirst for the power, for the gift, as he called it grew each day. With it she had a chance to kill her dear, dear sister as she pleased. And she could...persuade Rumplestiltskin’s way of thinking and perhaps, even his heart.

“I don’t think you’re ready,” he’d said. “Not yet. You don’t understand it yet, I can feel it when you speak.”

“But I am! I am, you just have to give me that chance!”

“This isn’t a new shade of lipstick or a dress you can change your mind about. This is an eternal curse, dearie. An everlasting gift that will never go away. There is no ‘chance’ that I’m willing to take. I’m king of this region, and should I make a vampire that goes rogue on her own because she can’t understand what my former pupil so readily took to-”

“I’m not Regina!” She yelled, marching up to him again. “I am better than her! Cora wants me just as much as she wanted her, she knows I can handle this!”

“That’s odd, you see, because she told me yesterday that she was concerned about this. About your training. Regina-”

“To hell with Regina!” Zelena’s tiny spurt of magic she held inside of her cracked a vase on the table behind her. Rumplestiltskin paused, looking at her steadily.

“There is one, one more test you have to pass,” he said, forever smirking, forever the showman and she adored it, no matter how she itched to peel away the layers and sink underneath to see what wriggled about inside him. “And it is the most difficult.”

Blood. She had to drink vampire blood. It was the closest she could get to the actual strength and power of a vampire.

Regina’s test, of course, had been to starve her out for a week and set a perfectly good -and wrapped in silver while also protected by Rumplestiltskin the entire time- human in front of her to see if she could resist them properly.

She passed.

Zelena, however, did not.

Broken limbs of passerby outside, shattered furniture, screams and shrieks of nonsense from the woman who’d gone absolutely manic, and finally she ended up trying to kiss him in the dreamlike high of the vampire blood.

“But I love you!” She sobbed, his blood smeared on her mouth, tears streaking down her cheeks.

“Zelena, I-I am your _teacher,”_ he explained, shoving her off of him as her hands started to roam.

She wanted to touch, she wanted to feel, she wanted to reach his cold heart and feel it, wanted his fangs in her skin, she wanted to be consumed by him before she turned around and made him obey her instead…

But he was scorning her, taking all of that away.

“I don’t want anything to do with you, not like that,” he snickered, shaking his head. Her face fell, surging with envy.

“But-but you wanted Cora like that!” She whined, stamping her foot. He laughed.

“That was two hundred years ago!” He softened a little when she started to sniffle, still lost in her high. He attempted some form of tenderness with her. “Hey, it’s alright. I have that effect on women!”

She scowled at him. “What’s wrong with me, then?! Why not me?! I’m just as good as them! I’m just as good and I can be good to you!” She tried clamping onto him again and he shoved her back, this time with his cane.

“Because, dearie, you just aren’t right for the job.” He turned, leaving her standing in the large hall.

That was months ago. But she was determined to get him to see. To notice she had worth. She would show him and when she did, when she had the power she needed she’d make him hers, whether he liked it or not.

The vampire blood as well as her obsession with The Dark One had not left her since then. She took drops of it nearly every day, peddled it from any vampire she could to feel that rush, to see the beautiful images of the king again. Bound and bloody, screaming her name and looking at her with such love as she tore him apart, devoured him. He would say he loved her with tears streaking down his face and warmth in his eyes. And it was so, so beautiful…

She thought about that now, sitting in his bar and staring at the useless little waif he’d suddenly taken such a liking too. The innocent little gumdrop. Weak little bitch that she could rip apart that spoke to her like she was better than her.

Zelena would get Rumplestiltskin to herself. And she would spend so much time making this girl ugly right before his eyes. She’d cut off those petal lips of hers and make her eat them. She’d carve her face, cut off all that pretty, pretty hair and then ask him if she was still beautiful. She wanted to rip at her ivory skin, bruise those perfect breasts black and make her regret ever trying to take Rumplestiltskin away from her.

The little bitch would see, airheaded little Belle. Pathetic, stupid little nothing. Why did she get such warm looks? What was so special about the teeny mouse that made him smile like that?

It wouldn’t matter soon. Very, very soon, when everything was complete, she would get the revenge she wanted.

She would have Rumplestiltskin in that glass case she wanted. Pinned, smiling and hers. For whatever she pleased. Then little Belle would see what loving him is truly like.

~*~

“I really am, um, sorry about earlier,” Belle muttered, flushed as Rumple counted the drawer Graham had set on the counter, making sure it matched the papers beside them.

The vampire smiled at her through his lashes, almost shy. “I truly don’t mind, Belle. I only regret that I couldn’t respect your privacy more.” He winced a little, sincere.

“Well, I, I thought most of your blood would be um...gone, by now, but…”

“You did have to drink quite a bit,” he reminded. “And it’s only been a few weeks. It’ll pass soon, I promise. And you’ll be rid of that burden.”

Belle hesitated, then took a step closer to him. “And if...if I’m a little disappointed that’s going to happen?” She murmured, putting a hand on his arm. She bit her lip, looking up at him and holding her breath.

He looked...surprised. He blinked at her and dared to smile, just a little.

“Then, I… I, um, would you like to get some ice cream when I’m done here? Perhaps we could go to the park after, and um...I know this lovely spot I think you’d like. Where, where you can read. When it’s light of course, um-”

Belle pressed her finger to his lips. “I’d like that.”

He laughed a little, nervous. “Wonderful. I’ll only be a moment.” He gathered the papers and the drawer, stepping back into the office.

Belle smiled after him, sighing happily. She turned back toward the rest of the bar, looking around happily.

She felt...eyes on her. She paused, her smile fading as she tried to find the source.

Her eyes met that woman’s, Zelena’s, and she froze. The woman looked mercilessly angry and...as if she wanted to hurt her. Her eyes were wide and manic, nostrils flared in a snarl. Bell shrunk into herself a little, afraid for a moment.

Just a moment.

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, glaring right back. She wasn’t going to be bullied by some woman for something that wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t going to let her make her cower like she was nothing. She was strong. And she wasn’t afraid of her.

Which only seemed to enrage the woman more.

Belle was about to say something to her when she felt cool fingers turning her jaw. “Belle?”

She looked up at Rumplestiltskin and relaxed immediately. “Sorry, um…” She glanced over at Zelena, who’d promptly busied herself with her drink and another vampire she was flirting blood from.

Rumple frowned a moment, then looked back at Belle. “Pay her no mind,” he said gently. “She ever tries to harm you and she’ll be answering to me.”

Belle chuckled, taking his arm and walking out with him. “And what makes you think I’ll need your help?” She smirked. He laughed.

“You’re absolutely right. I’ll simply be there to call the ambulance, dearie.”

Giggling, they left.

And Zelena watched.

 


	8. Coward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple is frightened by his feelings for Belle, and what his cowardice has brought him in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note tags have been added~

The spot Rumple had shown her was incredible. A quiet, pristine little bench that overlooked the ocean, tucked under a large, shady tree that was flanked by a lilac bush. The black water and chilled air of the night around them made it almost sinister, as shadows tended to do, but in the light… It would be beautiful.

Of course, the vampire could only guess how beautiful Belle would look, perched in her soft dresses, the sun lighting her hair and igniting the auburn woven into it, skin so pale and beautiful, pink lips stretched into a smile just big enough to bring out that dimple in her cheek, lost in the story with that dreamy look in her eyes that would match the sky and compliment the ocean. He could see her, swinging her legs, too small for her feet to touch the ground, heels only half on with her small fingers caressing the pages as if to soothe the book, as if to remind it she cared for it.

Even if he would never be able to see her like that himself, the idea that she would be here, just like that, if she wanted to, that was enough.

“It’s beautiful,” Belle smiled, pressing close to him, spooning her ice cream into her mouth with his coat draped over her shoulders. She looked up at him. “Thank you for showing this to me.”

There was that look again. He could never think properly when she was looking at him like that. She looked at him sometimes like...well like she looked at her books. He never knew how to handle that, what to do with it, what it meant. If it meant anything at all.

She didn’t look at other people like that, however, so what made him so special? Anything? The blood, likely, the blood still in her system that gave her such lucid dreams of him. Manufactured and wrong, not...not real. How could a woman like her, a beautiful, young, vibrant and incredible woman like Belle, want him?

“It’s my pleasure, Belle,” he said with his own tender smile.

Belle terrified him. Her kindness, her smiles, the softness of her touch, the gentle way she spoke to him. It was all so foreign to him. No one had ever really loved him. Maybe his son. For awhile.

“What’s wrong?” Belle asked, leaning to meet his eyes and followed his gaze.

“Nothing,” he assured, hesitantly brushing her hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. “Just a bit distracted.”

“Am I boring you?” She asked, blinking up at him. He shook his head, cupping her warm cheek for the barest of seconds.

“Of course not. You could never bore me, Belle. This is...something I’m not used to,” he said softly. “The domesticity of this. And you, well, you want to be with me, and you haven’t asked me once about becoming like me.”

Belle’s brow creased. “I...I hadn’t even thought about that, really. I don’t want that, that’s not why I’m still here.”

“Right,” he nodded, looking down as they started to walk again. “You want information.”

“No,” Belle smiled, shaking her head. “That’s not why either. You’ve told me everything I’ve asked about. I...I’m not using you, Rumple.”

He stared at her again, confused and lost. If not that, then what? Could she really, truly want to be with him? Try out this relationship thing and...see where it went? If anything could become of it?

This sweet, genuine, human girl with the world at her feet, couldn’t want to be with a monster. A pathetic little man with nothing, with no one, but a black heart and this eternal curse. She knew what a horrible creature he had been. He’d told her of the things he’d done and still that hadn’t deterred her.

“Belle, I… I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You could have anything you could ever want. Any _one_ you want. You don’t want an ugly man like me. I’m nothing and you deserve _everything,”_ he gushed, pausing to hold her shoulders and look at her steadily.

Belle only smiled. “Rumple, if I didn’t want to give this a try, to see if a relationship with you is going to feel as right as it feels just to be around you, wouldn’t I have left by now?”

He couldn’t find words after that. He just looked at her, searching for the right thing to say, trying to be more eloquent than he felt.

Belle giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him. He was surprised at first, still not used to someone wanting to touch him so innocently, but hugged her back. She was so warm, soft, small. He felt as if he would break her if he squeezed too hard. She pulled back and looked up at him, smiling and taking his hand before they continued to walk.

He went with her, his heart full, mind fighting off the hopes that were undoubtedly false. Lies. He couldn’t become too attached to her. He couldn’t believe her, believe her feelings, not truly.

He’d learned long ago that he was not a man to be loved.

~*~

“Milah! Milah, help me, please!”

She didn’t. She stood in the doorway, the babe on her arm, and watched.

Several men had come and dragged him from his home, beat him in front of his wife, who did nothing to come to his aid. She hadn’t even asked them to stop, and when he’d looked up at her, the sneer in her face, the gleam in her eye, he knew she was enjoying this. Baelfire was crying on her arm, too young to really know what was happening, but enough that there was something wrong.

He opened his mouth to tell her to take him inside but a boot cracked across his jaw and sent him falling once more.

They were dragging him to the post in the middle of the square, mostly used to tie up horses ready to be sold and very seldom used as a whipping post. Trembling, fighting all he could with his leg still healing, and badly, Rumplestiltskin prayed they would only whip him.

“What have I done?! What have I done, please!” His hands were bound to the post, hoisted above his head, barely touching the ground. A man spit in his face, another punched his wounded jaw, blood pooling in his mouth.

“You’re a coward, Rumplestiltskin,” a merchant who lived near by sneered, gripping his hair and yanking his head back, a dagger in his hand. “All we’re doing is making it known.”

“Please, please don’t. Please, I have a son, I…” The knife was placed to his throat and he whimpered, shutting his eyes.

“Quit your simpering and be a man for once in your life.”

He kept his eyes shut tight, feeling his clothes give under the tears of the knife, leaving him almost naked in the cold night.

He stayed quiet, until he heard a different sort of laughter. He opened his eyes, tensing when he saw the branding iron coming his way. “No! No, please, no, don’t do this! Don’t do this, please!”

Rough hands and rougher bodies pinned him to keep him still, the blacksmith getting closer and grinning horribly at him.

They held his hair in a tight vice to make him watch as he pleaded for his wife’s help, but she didn’t care. She was happy he was being punished. He shook with fear, forced to watch the iron touch his hip.

He screamed.

He smelled his own flesh, felt it sear into him forever, as permanent as his newfound limp. It was peeled away, a burning, hideously blistered and red C branded into his flesh. Coward.

They let him go, spit on him, let him hang there in the cold.

Bruised, bloodied, sobbing, his hip throbbing in pain, he waited for Milah to come and take him down. His wife… She could hate him for this, loathe him for what he’d done, the cowardice he showed and was now marked with forever, but she at least had the decency to let him down. Didn’t she?

She didn’t. When he looked back toward the house she was gone and the windows were dark.

He bowed his head, struggling weakly against the bonds keeping him there, shivering in the cold. It was hard to breathe, and even harder to stay conscious with the pain that wracked his too-thin body.

He woke near dawn, grunting. Someone was touching him. An old man he didn’t know, a beggar, was carefully placing a bandage over the brand, which he’d also cleaned. Rumplestiltskin frowned, confused.

“What are you doing?” He rasped. The man didn’t answer, his face almost entirely hidden by the hood. He pressed a cup of water to the spinner’s lips and he drank greedily, his entire body throbbing with pain. “What...I don’t understand.”

Still no answer.

He quickly untied his hands, steadied him, and pressed his walking stick into his hands so he would stay upright. “Thank you, I…” The cloak that had been torn off of him was draped over his shoulders, and the man urged him toward his house.

“Wait, please,” He said quietly, swaying where he stood. “Why are you doing this? Why help me?”

“You'll help me one day. I know you will.”

Before the sun could peek into the sky, before Rumplestiltskin could really blink, the man was gone.

He limped back into his house, where Milah was already awake, Baelfire nursed and babbling in his crib. She didn’t look at him when he came in, and he kept his head down.

He cleaned the blood and spit off of himself, ignoring the disgusted sneers she gave him and his body, shrunk into himself. Afraid. Ashamed. Worthless, powerless and unloved man who meant nothing to anyone.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke next, dressed and seated on the bed far from hers. “Why didn’t you let me down?” He whispered, scared of her answer.

“Because I hoped you’d die,” she said simply. He swallowed the tears that welled in his eyes, barely flinched when she came closer.

“You aren’t even going to fight me? You’re just going to let me talk to you like that?” She demanded. He swallowed, looking up at her with bloodshot, tired and swollen eyes.

“Why should I fight?” He whispered. She slapped him, and he took it, unable to keep his lips from shaking and a tear slipping down his cheek.

“A real man wouldn’t have to ask that question,” she spat. She picked the baby out of the crib and shoved him into his arm, turning and leaving without saying when she’d be back.

Baelfire cooed while he wept, reaching up with chubby little fingers and grabbed his Papa’s nose. Rumple laughed, despite himself, smoothing his hand over the babe’s little head. “Hello, Bae,” he said softly. “Papa missed you. Did you miss me?” The child reached for him, giggling, and Rumple pulled him closer, hugging his son.

“I hope you’ll be a better man than me,” he whispered. “I’ll try and teach you how. I promise.” Baelfire crooned and pulled curiously on Papa’s hair. Rumple turned to him and smiled, kissing his forehead.

“I hope you don’t hate me too.” He smiled when he spoke, despite his crying. He didn’t want to frighten his child. Baelfire babbled and grabbed his nose again, pushing his forehead against Papa’s.

With Baelfire close, Rumple didn’t hurt so much. With the smiles his son gave him, he didn’t feel like such a waste of breath.

Standing in front of his bathroom mirror now, tracing the scar still on his hip, Rumplestiltskin reflected on how the weakling he had been felt then. Like he was worth something.

And that’s how Belle made him feel now.

~*~

The shop was closed today, and Belle decided to take that opportunity to take her books and a lunch to that spot Rumple had shown her and spend the day there. She’d come back at dusk, of course. She liked being there when Rumple first woke up.

She was sure he had nightmares. Oftentimes he would come downstairs after waking looking stressed and shaken, and the moment he saw her he lit up with a visible relaxation settling into his shoulders. And when she wasn’t there and he came to see her, she could see the clouds behind his eyes, the fresh wounds just there that she couldn’t reach.

And she didn’t like it. Just by the way he spoke, the vagueness he gave his past, she knew he had suffered, and dearly. She didn’t push him, of course, but it was enough to know whatever he dreamed was close agonizing.

Shaking the thoughts away, a fresh book in her arms, Belle made her way down the hall toward the stairs, passing the other guest rooms as well as Rumple’s room.

She froze.

The door was open. She frowned, peeking inside and finding it empty. It was just past eleven, the sun shining harshly through the windows and igniting the house. She tossed the book on his dresser and ran downstairs.

“Rumple?” She darted through the rooms, hoping with all her might she didn’t find a pile of dust somewhere. “Rumple, are you here?” He had been when she’d gone to sleep last night, and if he were ever staying elsewhere he left a note, he wouldn’t just…

Belle knew one other place that was light tight in this house, the basement. Where the spinning wheel was.

She hurried down, carefully opening the door and quietly walking down the stairs. She heard a quiet squeaking; his wheel turning, and was relieved for the sign of life.

As everything came into view, her heart cinched.

Tired, haggard, a trail of blood coming from each ear and his nose, Rumple was slumped in front of his wheel with piles of thread around his feet, constantly and methodically spinning.

“Rumple?” She said softly, slowly walking up behind him. He didn’t move, as if he hadn’t heard her. Slowly, and carefully, Belle placed a hand on the back of his head.

He jumped a little and looked up at her, so tired, but his expression was open and he...he looked so hurt. So sad and lonely, frightened.

“Hey,” she knelt beside him. “What’s wrong? It’s almost the afternoon. What are you doing awake?” She took a clean rag from beside the washer just a few feet away and carefully started cleaning the blood off of his face.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he whispered. “Too many...voices. Thoughts. Nightmares. I couldn’t do it, I...came down here.” He looked back at the wheel. “It helps me forget.”

“Forget what?” Belle said softly. He stared at it for a moment, before looking at her.

“I guess it worked.” He smiled a little, and she smiled back at him, shaking her head.

“You need to rest,” she said gently. “I’ll help you get back upstairs, if you want.”

“No, no, I...I’m afraid to try,” he admitted, his voice soft. “Some...unsavory memories have been dredged up as of late and I don’t...I don’t want…” He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “So I’ll stay right here in my solitude, thank you.”

Belle smiled at his attempt at harshness with her, dabbing at the blood still stained under his eyes, from crying. “You’re happy I’m here,” she smirked.

He hesitated. “I’m not unhappy.” He watched her a moment  as she continued to help clean him up, touching him with such immense, breathtaking tenderness he didn’t think anyone was capable of having with him. He’d never known such sweetness.

“Why did you come down here, Belle?” He asked quietly, the smallest of hopes lacing his tone.

Belle turned her warm, kind eyes to him. “I was worried about you. That you could be hurt, or dust. Or like this.” She nodded to the rag she put down beside her. “And I, I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

He looked at her, utterly mesmerized. “Why not?”

Belle looked at him, at the vampire with so many secrets, with darkness and agony and so much...love. There was so much kindness and passionate warmth in him and it was breathtaking. How he spoke to her, how he looked at her, and how afraid he was to let himself feel.

She wasn’t afraid.

Belle sat up on her knees, cupping his cheek and slowly, very slowly, pressed their lips together.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t pull away, he didn’t run, he didn’t fight, he didn’t break down though all of his instincts told him to. He kissed her back.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her warm body in his arms, and tasted the sweet, soft petals of her lips. And it was perfect.

For once, in this sweet kiss he hadn’t run away from, Rumplestiltskin forgot that he was a coward.

 


	9. Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle makes a crucial decision regarding hers and Rumple's dating life, as well as the state of her virginity.

Tonight would be it.

Belle knew that before she’d left the house tonight that this would be it.

After dinner, after talking after smiling and laughing and thoroughly enjoying each other as they always did spending time together, Belle was going to give herself to Rumplestiltskin. She wanted him, all of him, she wanted to know that intimacy with him, to hear him pant her name, to taste sweat on his lips and memorize each plane of skin and muscle and know his tenderness on the deepest of levels.

Oh, she had gotten to know him so well. After that first kiss she’d walked with him back upstairs and he slept with his head in her lap for the rest of the day. She pet his hair back and read, calm, peaceful and content with his weight there. It was nice. Watching him blink awake and smile at her as if the stars themselves were trapped in her eyes was incredible.

They went for a walk that night. He’d had the park lighted for them, and she’d smiled so wide looking around at everything with such wonder. Soft music from rarely used speakers and he simply...listened when she spoke. A soft smile and brought out his dimples and the laugh lines around his eyes, he let her speak about what she’d read that day. Fingers linked he finally pulled her into his arms, dazzled and mesmerized by her, and said very softly, “You are breathtakingly brilliant, Belle.”

In comparison to Gaston, whose kindest compliment was ‘your ass looks great today,’ Belle was a little dazzled herself.

On their next date he brought her to the quaint little cabin he had in the woods, a picnic laid out by the fireplace that warmed her cheeks much like the wine did. He would only allow the barest of kisses when the warmth of the alcohol had settled into her stomach and made her giggle more, held her in the glow of the fire while she drunkenly recited Shakespeare and he whispered the following lines into her ear and made her shiver.

The walk home from dinner their following outing, the sky opened up and soaked them both. They splashed and giggled, he picked her up and spun her around and threatened to plop her right in the mud if she didn’t admit that Charlotte was the better Bronte sister but by the time they got home she was absolutely trembling with chills.

Rumple’s skin was warmer than hers when she touched it, lips turning blue but she was still smiling.

“You need to get out of these wet clothes,” he whispered, frantic with worry about her catching pneumonia or ‘Fuck knows what else, it could be anything these days’, and taking off her coat and her cardigan in the middle of the living room.

Belle had simply agreed, eager to get warm, and kicked off her shoes, shucked her pantyhose down and was unbuttoning her blouse when she realized the company she was in.

“Oh, god, I- Sorry, I’ll um-” She looked up, and he had been doing the same, neither thinking, neither intending on anything more than her getting warm and him not dripping on the wooden floors anymore.

He was shirtless, she was nearly in her underwear and just...just looking at him. Belle slipped out of her blouse.

He was so gentle, chaste and careful where he put his hands, even -especially- when she was tucked in his bed, quaking and curled up against him. She touched his wet hair and he traced soft, quiet patterns into her palm, their eyes never leaving the others. If the blood had not stopped influencing her dreams, Belle would have been sure this were one of them. Wrapped in his arms, his cool skin against hers, she lost her breath.

“Your heart is fluttering away, dearie,” he whispered, voice low and rumbling as the thunder growling outside. “I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”

She looked up at him, pressed a lingering kiss to his wanting lips, and shook her head. “No. No, this is perfect.” And that was all that was said until they both fell asleep.

That was nearly a week ago. A movie between then and now, nightmares putting one or the other in the other’s bed a few nights, and Belle knew already how she felt about him. And from the way he spoke to her, how he touched her, how he smiled at her, Belle was sure he felt much the same.

Standing in the bathroom of the most expensive establishment in the immediate area, Belle straightened her soft lavender dress and let out a breath, righting her hair and adjusting the ringlets on her shoulders. Tonight. If Rumple accepted, tonight she would wrap herself around him and lose herself completely, like every nerve in her body had been urging for months, in the sweet, caring vampire everyone swore was a monster.

With a satisfied smile she turned and went back into the restaurant.

As she made her way back to the table, she was plucked right off the floor by the wrist and toppled into someone’s chest.

“Who the hell do you think-?” She looked up, and Rumplestiltskin beamed back at her. “Oh. You know a simple ‘Belle come here please’ would have done just fine.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He said gently, the warmth in his voice bleeding into her. She looked around, realizing where they were standing.

The dance floor.

“May I have this dance, Belle?” He asked, pressing a soft kiss to her hand. She smiled, looking up at him, breathless.

“Y-yes,” she smiled, stepping closer to him and placing her hand on his shoulder. He took her waist, grasped her hand, and danced with her. The movements were a little stiff, slow and small with his limp, but Belle didn’t mind, didn’t notice. She was far too taken with him, with his smiles, the gentle music and his eyes. His sweet, glowing brown eyes that made her heart stutter.

The rest of the world became so lost to her, a distant realm that no longer existed beyond the precious tranquility of Rumplestiltskin’s arms.

Breathless, lost, Belle pressed her forehead to his, relaxing against him. He said nothing. He smiled so gently, touched her so carefully and looked at her with more warmth and care than she’d ever known.

When the music stopped she didn’t take her eyes off of him, cupping his cheek and touching the soft curls that brushed against his shoulders.

“Perhaps we should go back to the table, dearie,” he said gently, still holding her just as close.

“Yes, I...I agree,” she breathed, dazed. He chuckled a little, pressing fingertips under her jaw.

“Are you alright, Belle?” He said in that soft little growl of his.

She nodded, biting her lip and smiling at him through her lashes. “I am very much alright.”

His brow quirked in intrigue, a tiny smirk on his delicate lips. “If you say so, dearie.” She took his arm, taking his cane from the wall and pressing it into his palm as they headed back to the table, so elated.

Rumple watched her curiously, adoring the brilliant, beautiful woman who smiled at him genuinely, kissed him eagerly and enjoyed being near him. He could feel the heat buzzing under her skin, hear the thundering in her heart being near him. And he could smell the desire seeping from her.

He wanted her. He wanted to experience the succulence of her skin, taste the nectar between her legs, drown in the gentle scent of her body and lose himself in the silk and velvet music of her. However, it was up to Belle to make that first move. He wouldn’t push her. He didn’t want her to think the only reason he helped her, the only reason he gave her his blood, offered her a home and a job, was simply to have her.

When he met her, the wounded, frightened, battered woman, all he’d wanted was to help her. To rid her eyes of the fog of torture and bring out that steel beneath. Battered and shaken as it was, it was still just as strong.

Brave, powerful, brilliant, enduring… Belle was not a cherry blossom, as most assumed. Beautiful, fleeting, nothing more, no, no Belle was a rose. Gorgeous, vibrant, everlasting and surrounded by its own defenses. She merely needed someone to rid her of the shade to grow fully again.

As he sat across from her, watching her through the gentle candlelight, her face bright with excitement talking about what Graham had told her about werewolves, and he hung on every word.

Twice before he’d felt this way. Not to this intensity, not with this much passion and ferocity he had with Belle, but this...affection.

Milah had stopped loving him when he gave up his honor to protect his son. She loathed him, hit him, spat in his face, abandoned him and their child for-

And Cora. Cora who he thought he could have a second chance with. Cora who he groomed and spent so much time with, who only came to him again when her daughter was born, her hand was given to another and she swore she loved him.

All she wanted was power.

He should have known that.

Power to dictate her daughter’s life.

Power to make her daughter do anything she wanted, giving her this curse too.

But Belle was different. Belle didn’t want anything from him, she only expected him to curb his bloodlust and thirst for violence for both of their sakes. She didn’t care if he had power, she didn’t want the gift she… She only wanted him.

He wasn’t sure he fully believed her.

But he wanted to.

“Hey,” Belle reached across the table and gently took his hand, her eyes glittering. “Why don’t we get out of here?”

Her desire spiked again and The Dark One masked the deep inhale he took. He smiled. “If that would please you.”

She bit her lip. “It definitely would.”

~*~

Sweat, skin, now her back shoved against the wall, Belle was panting and drowning in her vampire’s sweet lust.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, flushed breasts straining the thin lace of her bra. She tightened her legs around his waist while his hips ground against hers. Primal, heated sounds left his throat, vibrating from his chest into the mouth that was exploring every bit of skin he could reach.

The delicate blue and white lace of her panties was soaked through, the hard and oddly hot cock rocking against her lips only making it worse.

His rhythm for this kept changing.

It started out so slow, so sweet. He undressed her carefully, and she did the same for him. Their kisses were languid, building a slow, gentle heat with each passing moment. He caressed her back and her arms, whispered the softest, sweetest things into her ear, teased her with gentle presses of his thigh between her legs.

Then all at once, with one kiss, one flick of his tongue in her mouth the slow burning embers flashed over.

Her skin blazed with want and now he was biting across the tops of her breasts just perfectly, hands cupping them tenderly and kneading her flesh. Ivory silk, the softest of velvet creams under his lips.

Her heartbeat thundered with the rushing of her blood, the sweetness of her skin fresh in his mouth.

“Rumple?”

He stopped immediately, hands moving to a neutral position on her waist, at full attention. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No! Oh, god, no, nothing like that, I…” She pinked with embarrassment, adding to the flustered color already there. “Will my blood not...taste as good anymore? Is that something you’re okay with?”

He stared at her a moment, a little dumbfounded. “Am I…? Belle, darling, this is not my body. You are not ‘mine’, I don’t own you. Your blood, to me, will smell and taste just as sweet as it always has, no matter what we do. I promise.” She smiled, satisfied, and yanked him into a kiss by his hair.

He snarled in pleasure and returned to grinding against her, lightly dragging his nails over the sweet, supple flesh of her thighs and watching her shake.

“R-Rumple!”

The bra burst with a tug that was just a touch too hard and he winced. “Oh, I-I’m sorry, I’ll um, replace that, I’m so sorry-”

Belle groaned and kissed him, their bare chests pressed together. The heat of her was searing. Her breasts were so soft against his skin, nipples fragile with deft fingers working each of them one at a time.

Belle’s legs trembled as he carefully set her on the ground, and dropped to his knees. She stared at him, shaking as his fingers hooked through her underwear and slowly pulled them down inch, by, inch. Belle quivered, nodded her permission when he looked to her for it and parted her legs with the guidance of his hands.

She braced herself against the wall, his tongue sliding through her lips in one long drag from the bottom up and she cried out. The sensation was so purely good, so incredible and unlike anything she’d ever felt.

Rumplestiltskin sucked on her lips, lifting one of her legs over his shoulders to keep her upright. He dove his tongue in again, flicking her clit and growling in approval when she whimpered.

Her hips jerked into his mouth as he sucked her off, one cool finger ghosting her entrance, teasing just enough to make her squirm more. Her fingers threaded into his hair, pulling again, urging him, urging herself. He let her.

Her juices were so sweet. He watched and felt this sweet girl drip with honeyed pleasures he lapped up as if he were a man dying of thirst, eager to get her first orgasm out of the way.

The vampire’s growls and snarls against her flesh sent vibrations through her body, shaking her, making her moans desperate and wanton.

She tugged on his hair again, whimpering in frustration when he pulled his mouth away. “Close, aren’t you?” He whispered, circling her nerves still with his thumb, his lips pink from the pressure. She nodded fast, flushed and panting. He smiled a little.

“Can I bite you, Belle?” He whispered, rubbing her faster. He slid his tongue along the joint of her groin and her thigh, closing his eyes with her sob of pleasure.

“Yes,” she grunted. “Bite me, bite me now!” She jerked him closer with the hand still fisted in his ear and listened to him moan.

She heard his fangs come out, trembled as they grazed against her sensitive skin before piercing her.

He drank greedily, dark eyes raised to hers. She cried out, coming roughly against the wall, blood sliding down her thigh from his mouth. He smiled and pulled away, licking up the mess and kissed her skin gently, as if to soothe it. “Good girl.”

Belle moaned again, kissing him when he straightened up, tasting her blood and the elixir of his skin as she did, walking him back toward the bed.

She pushed him down, climbing over him. Her hands roamed his torso, stopping at his hip. She stared at the scar she hadn’t noticed until now. A brand, old and deeply settled into his vampiric skin.

He flinched when she touched it, shooing her hand away and covering it in shame. That one and the scar on his ankle, his two greatest and most permanent proofs of his past. He shook his head. “Don’t-don’t look Belle,” he whispered, the inferno between them cooling from a blistering white heat to a gentle blue flame, just as hot, but softer.

“Why?” Her brow pinched, confused. She’d heard of coward branding before, and she didn’t know why it was there, but it didn’t matter to her. Not in her decision, not in her want for him.

“It...it’s ugly. Horrific. A reminder of...of what a failure I am,” he mumbled. “A past filled with pain, that’s all. It’s hideous, and I need all the help I can get.” He laughed a little, but the pain was there, his insecurity, his fear that she would leave, that she would mock him.

Belle gently took the hand covering the scar and slid it away and she very, very carefully pressed her lips against it, as if she were afraid it would still hurt him to apply too much pressure after all this time. His breath shook with the petal soft touch, his eyes closing a moment. Nothing as beautiful and pure as this woman should ever touch something so horrendous.

“There is no part of you I could ever find ugly,” she whispered.

“Ah, but you haven’t seen all of me yet,” he smirked pointedly. Belle smiled.

“May I find out?” She tucked fingers into his waistband, ready to take them off. He nodded, a little more relaxed.

Belle pulled him up into a kiss again, soothing him, pulling him back with her and keeping him there as she bared him entirely.

Limbs tangled together, mouths kissing, sucking, licking anything they could reach. Belle was turning over and being lifted up, held close by cool arms and a searing heat that rutted against her greedily. The moans from Rumplestiltskin’s lips made her shudder.

Finally he was above her, one arm wrapped around her back, his fangs bared in want as he carefully, slowly, pressed inside of her.

Belle whimpered, gripping his ass and tugging him forward, trying to get him in deeper.

“Belle!”

His fangs grazed the hollow of her throat and she cocked her head, baring it for him, urging him closer. “Rumple, please. Again. Please…”

He stared at her hungrily, gently cupping her head and pressing soft kisses up her throat, basking in the warmth there. He took a deep breath of her skin and bit down. Her body tensed, then shivered around him, and as the sweet warmth of her blood slid down his throat, he started to rock his hips.

Belle groaned in pleasure, whispering his name and losing herself in the force of his thrusts. He took over her senses, wrapped himself around her where she couldn’t -and didn’t want to- escape. He fucked her so readily, the bed quaking with her the faster they became, the louder she urged him.

He kissed her, he praised her, he worshipped her and she let him. She relished his tongue cleaning the blood from her neck, the kisses to her mouth filled with the tang of her blood, the careful way he held her despite the rough grunts and moans coming from his lips. Desperate sounds, needy sounds.

Belle wanted them, she wanted to make him moan, wanted him to call her name, wanted him to shake with pleasure just as dearly as she was. She scraped her nails down his back to watch him arch, met his hips and tightened around him to stutter his breath.

“Oh, Belle...Belle…” He shuddered, thrusting into her and rocking back into the hands that had found his ass again and squeezed.

She held onto his shoulders, wrapped her legs around his waist and looked up at him with pure want, pure devotion and need. Had he a breath to take she would have it. He returned her warmth with his own, slowed a moment to remember Belle had never done this before, and above all she needed to know she was cared for.

He wouldn’t tell her he loved her. Not here, not like this. It didn’t count like this, it could simply be the ecstasy of the moment forcing the words out and that wasn’t fair to her.

He pressed their foreheads together and smiled at her, laced their fingers together and gave a chaste kiss to her petal lips.

“Rumple…”

“Belle…”

Thrusting, sweating, panting for air while the bed groaned and the pair desperately hurtled themselves toward release, nothing else existed, nothing in the world but this room, this bed and each other.

Belle smiled again, urging him to come, pleading with him to come while he rammed into just the right spot inside of her, holding her upright in his lap and watching her shake, feeling her walls tremble. He couldn’t hold himself back. Drunk on her blood, on her words, on the delicacy of her passion he released, and she followed in moments, both screaming, both trembling, both falling apart and shaken to bits by the time they reached the pillows again.

Rumple grinned, his fangs still out and Belle pressed sloppy kisses to his mouth, catching them and nicking her tongue.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” He said, breathy but urgent. She waved it off, smiling.

“I like it.”

He pulled her close, wrapped her up in the covers, smoothed her hair from her forehead and let her rest against his cool skin.

“Was that alright?” He whispered, kissing sweat off her brow. Belle smiled under the attention, eyes closed.

“That was incredible,” she nodded, smiling lazily, sleepily. “Did you…?”

“Oh, I certainly agree,” he whispered, still lavishing her with attention, pricking his finger to heal the bites he left on her, but she stopped him at her neck, shaking her head.

“I want it there,” she mumbled, eyes closed, smiling. “I want people to know.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled again, rubbing her back as she drifted off to sleep. “Know what, dearie?”

She giggled a little, yawning. “That I’m yours.”

He hugged her, closed his arms around her to protect her and watched her sleep awhile, drifting off himself. Sweet, beautiful Belle. His, she said.

“Oh, Belle,” he whispered against her ear. “It’s not your who belong to me. It’s me who belongs to you. I am now, and for all the future, yours.”


	10. Silver and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has a bit of a wild streak Rumple gets to experience firsthand; Zelena's plan comes to a head.

“S-someone could see us,” Belle gasped, gripping the counter and tipping her head back. Rumplestiltskin grinned, lifting her skirt, fingers sliding against the satin to tease her. His mouth grazed her neck, teeth nipping her sensitive flesh, his tongue sliding over the bite he’d left on her.

“I think you’d like that, dearie. You did start this, you know,” he chuckled.

Belle moaned, rocking against his hand and returning his smile with a sly one of her own. “Maybe I did, and maybe I do,” she smiled, spreading her legs wider. He touched her so completely, enveloped her senses, claimed her attention and held it entirely. He was so attentive to her. His kisses, his whispered praises, the hunger in his eyes when she moaned for him… They adored each other. They wanted each other.

So much that when he came into the shop just as the sun had started to go down they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, which is what led to Belle sitting halfway on the counter with her panties around her ankle and Rumplestiltskin’s cool fingers rubbing her nerves and making her squirm.

He watched her face, watched the pleasure bloom in her cheeks and spread down her chest and blossom so well between her legs.

“Oh, you are so beautiful…” He whispered, slipping a finger inside of her. He grinned when her breath hitched. He teased her, kissing the sweat from her skin and relishing the sweetness of her desires.

Such soft beautiful skin, pillowy silk, the color of marble and just the texture. Sweeter and smoother than silk, so warm and delicious, nearly as sweet as the delicacy that ran in the delicate veins on the inside of her arms. He kissed them, nipped her wrists, pressing his face into her throat and down her chest, inhaling the heated scent of her skin.

Belle shook under his touches, her breaths shallow and quick. “Ohn, oh...yes, yes, Rumple…” Soaked as she was, her thighs shaking, hips canting into his fingers with relish. Oh, he was so beautifully hungry for her.

She unzipped his trousers hastily, eager to have him inside of her. He groaned when he was free, gently lacing his fingers in her hair and kissing her so softly. “Belle…” He whispered, brushing his thumb against her lips.

“I’m here, Rumple,” she smiled, kissing the pad of his finger before biting it just a little. “Now take me.”

He growled and yanked her hips forward, holding her thigh for leverage and-

He stopped, tensing. “Belle someone’s coming, get down!” He scooped her off the counter and set her down, shooing her toward the back room but it was too late.

Just before the bell on the door sounded she dropped behind the counter between his legs, back pressed against it, still, listening and biting her lip. Rumple leaned against the counter, trying to conceal his disheveled state.

“Zelena,” he said with a tight smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure.”

Belle’s eyes darkened. She didn’t like this woman with wandering eyes and itching hands near him.

“Oh, um, I’m surprised you’re here. I thought the girl was running things here now,” she said with a false sickly sweetness that made Belle’s insides tense.

Rumplestiltskin fought to keep himself pleasant, but not open to too much conversation. “She stepped out for some fresh air. We’re just about to close!”

His voice choked off a little, pleasure shooting up his spine and he realized before he looked down his trousers had been open before they were interrupted.

He glanced down briefly in shock, meeting Belle’s striking eyes and watching her tongue drag along his head. She smirked.

“Something wrong?” Zelena asked, moving a little as if to peer at what he was looking at. He straightened up and shook his head.

“Thought I saw a mouse is all. Can I help you?” He gripped the edge of the counter. Belle’s hot, silken mouth slowly began to engulf him, her tongue sliding under his glans as he fought to keep his composure in front of this woman.

“I was looking for a, um, a gift. For a friend of mine,” she smiled.

He cocked his brow. “I’m glad to see you’re gaining companionship. Terrible thing to see a young woman so alone.” He brushed fingers under Belle’s chin, tugging her hair when she hollowed her cheeks. He cleared his throat. “So what is it you’re looking for?”

“See, now, this is going to sound a bit silly, asking you, but do you have any silver?” She chuckled. “I know, I know, I’m in a vampire owned business asking this, but everywhere else I’ve been either has tacky, ugly religious fodder or candlesticks.”

Belle pulled off to drag her petal lips along his shaft and he fought to keep his legs from shaking. Her hands slid down his thighs, gentle and careful as her lips were. Rumplestiltskin fought himself and the enchantment that threatened to befall him if he focused too much on how Belle was touching him.

“Well, I, I must say, I am curious as to why you would pick silver over anything else. Lately, it seems, that’s almost a sign for vampires to be wary,” he said, still, gripping Belle’s hair.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” Zelena assured, and he was far too concerned with listening to Belle’s pulse race than to listen and see if she was lying or not. “She’s allergic to nickel and gold is just atrocious with her complexion, that’s all.”

“Ah-!” Belle took him down again, readily and still looking at him. He smiled politely at Zelena, trying to play it off as a sound of understanding. “Of course, yes, well, I believe all the silver I have is in that case there,” he pointed across the room. “Take a look around and if you see anything you like, let me know.”

The grin that spread over her features made him uneasy. “I most certainly will.”

He kept his pleasantries in place until she looked away. He stole a moment to shake, a moan nearly leaving his lips but he quickly recovered, making as though he were clearing his throat instead. Zelena glanced at him again with an almost flirtatious smile he fought to ignore.

Belle engulfing him, bobbing her head with her bright lips stretched and wet around him, her eyes glittering, cheeks flushed to perfection was a perfect distraction, he soon found out.

However, the quiet of the shop made things all the more difficult. Keeping quiet vocally seemed the biggest chore. Silencing the breath he didn’t need, desperately fighting not to moan as her pace quickened and she tightened her throat.

He gave her a dark, hungry look for the barest of seconds, thumbing her jaw and wishing he could appreciate her work properly. This amount of restraint was one of the most difficult things he’d ever endured in his nearly six hundred years, and Belle was thoroughly enjoying it.

Her eyes gleamed with mischief he’d yet to see in them before, smirking around him and taking great pleasure in this peril. He smirked back at her, promising with a gaze he would certainly repay her for this.

His breath hitched when her nose brushed against his skin, all of him down her throat. He tugged harder on her hair, careful not to hurt her and clenched his jaw to keep himself quiet. The closer release came, the more difficult it was to focus, to keep from sweating, and to keep his fangs in.

The delicious touches Belle bestowed on him made him shake. His whole body throbbed and he was so very close, unbearably close to giving in-

“This whole case is sterling?” Zelena asked, pulling his attention again and the urge to rip her apart spiked through him but he kept his glaring to a minimum.

“Yes. Yes, I don’t sell costume jewelry,” he grunted, his hips jerking into Belle’s mouth on their own. She continued sucking him, stroking where her mouth wasn’t and coaxing him closer and closer…

“Sorry, I really don’t mean to hold you up,” Zelena chuckled, batting her lashes at him. Belle sucked with more fervor and he dug his fingers into the counter.

“It’s no trouble. Th-though I do have an engagement soon, so if you...wouldn’t mind,” he said breathily, fighting every instinct in his body.

“Of course,” she said, tone curt now that her flirtation had been rejected.

Belle flicked her tongue against his slit, sucking in earnest, coaxing more and more until finally.

Rumple grunted, inhaling sharply and squeezing the counter and Belle’s hair as he released down her throat. Zelena frowned at him and he feigned a coughing fit. “Excuse me.”

Belle was grinning up at him, smug. She licked her swollen lips clean and carefully tucked him away, blinking innocently.

He shook his head at her, smiling a little and thumbed her lips, lavishing what gracious attention he could with the woman near.

“Rumple, would you mind taking these out for me?” Zelena smiled, pointing at something in the case.

“Please,” the vampire said sharply, wrinkling his nose in a distasteful smile as he pulled gloves on. “It’s Mr. Gold.” He limped over to the case. “Now what is it you’d like to see?” He asked as pleasantly as possible.

Belle sat still, grinning to herself and sighing gently, very satisfied with herself. She was highly aware that once Zelena was gone he  would likely devour her all over again to happily repay her for that extraordinary practice of self control, and she was immensely excited for that.

“The shears, there,” Zelena said, pointing to a pair of intricately designed sewing shears. “Dear is constantly at her machine and I’m sure she’d love these.”

The Dark One very carefully placed them in a rich velvet box, walking back to the register. Belle winked as he passed and his eyes flashed with warmth.

“So, that girl-”

“Belle,” he reminded darkly. “Her name is Belle.”

“Right,” Zelena smiled, false and sickening as usual. “Belle.” She spat her name as if it were poison. “Is she your...ward or?”

He chuckled, taking her money. “I’d say not. I mean, she certainly lives with me, but I think she’s much more than my ward.”

Zelena kept her smile in place but her eyes took on a hint of malice. “Is that so? Then is she…?”

“She’s mine,” he clarified. “If that’s what you’re asking. Though I must say, Zelena, it’s hardly any of your business.” He wrapped the box in brown paper and tied it with twine. “Wouldn’t you agree?” He offered it to her with an almost pleasant smirk.  

She pursed her lips, puffing up as if to say something, but quickly backed down. “I suppose.” She took it sharply and turned on her heel, stalking out. Rumple followed her, flipping the sign to ‘Closed’ and sighing.

Belle stood, frowning. “She makes me nervous,” she frowned.

He waved it off. “Don’t worry about her, dearie,” he assured. “She’s nothing I can’t handle.” Belle walked around the counter, still disheveled and a little red-faced, unsure. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “I’m a king, Belle. I can handle an obsessed junkie.”

Belle smiled, hooking her arms around his neck. “Are you sure? You could hardly handle a girl with a mouth behind a counter,” she teased.

“Oh…” He grinned, fangs out, picking her up. “Let’s see how much you can handle, my dear,” he grinned, setting her on the counter, spreading her legs and settling between them.

She smirked at him, biting her lip. “Should we lock the door first?” She breathed, eager and squeezing his sides.

“Well, if someone bothers us, I’ll just have to keep myself busy while you talk to them…” He slid his warm hand up her thigh, under her skirt, teasing as he had been before. Belle whimpered, grinning.

“Fair enough-! Oh, Rumple…”

~*~

He stood in the shop, turning off lights and putting the receipts away, smiling gently to himself while Belle was a few blocks away, waiting for him in the bar so he could check in there before they went out tonight.

Love was a strong word.

It was one that he wouldn’t use lightly, ever, but there was nothing else to describe what he felt for Belle. Her brilliance, her sweetness, her smile and passion, the sweet things she said to him, the sincerity in her gorgeous eyes when she spoke to him was incredible. No one had ever, ever talked to him like she did.

And always, always what ultimately happened with those he chose to care about was pain. Heartbreak that made him recede further into himself. Love was a weapon that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Oh but not Belle. Belle was soft, sweet, warm and she...she deserved everything. He could give her anything she wanted, anything at all, all she had to do was ask. But when he asked her if there was anything in the world he could give her, anything her heart desired, she smiled, looked up at him with those precious jewels in her eyes and said: “Well, I can never have too many books.”

Which is what the little present in his hand was. A small thing that fit in the palm of his hand, dark and wrapped in ribbon. A key to the library across the road. A building he owned that remained without need until now.

This was his gift to Belle, this...and his confession that he loved her. He wanted to take her for a walk in the woods, down a small path he’d had lined with lanterns and lights to a picnic waiting near the wishing well there. And hopefully he would be courageous enough to tell her.

He smiled to himself, still holding the box as he limped outside. He locked the door to the shop, taking a breath of the brisk night air. It was going to be wonderful. He had to believe that this girl, this sweet, perfect girl might return the intensity of his affections.

He started down the sidewalk toward his car.

Then the chain wrapped around his neck.

The silver burned severely, broke skin and sunk in. He grabbed at it, cane falling to the ground with a sharp clack. The person holding it yanked, hauling him down to the ground and dragging him back. He snarled and thrashed, smacking his head on the ground, fingers and throat bleeding from trying to get it off.

He jerked, hard, sitting up and yanking the chain out of the person’s hands and fighting to stand to rip the rest of it off and face who was attacking him.

And he found himself looking down the barrel of a gun, Zelena behind it. “I told you I can be good to you,” she grinned. “And now I’m going to prove it.”

He held his hands out, shaking his head. “Zelena, don’t-”

The gun fired.

~*~

Belle looked around the bar, checking the door every few minutes, checking her watch and her phone. He was supposed to be here an hour ago, and he was never late. Ever. Not for anything, and especially not to be with her.

She called him a few times, texted him in case he couldn’t talk and now she was getting worried. Her stomach ached with the anxiety resting in it, and she had to do something.

“I...I’m sure he’s alright,” the werewolf she’d been talking to, Ariel, assured her. Belle shook her head.

“He’s never late. If he is, he tells me he’s going to be. Something...something’s wrong.” She stared at the door a moment longer, checking the time again. She stood without saying anything and went toward the door, her phone gripped tight in her sweaty hands.

By the time she approached the shop she was near to running, and Sheriff Swan’s car was already outside with a small group of people gathered.

“Rumple!” She yelled, pushing through people. “Rumple-”

“Hey,” Emma intercepted her, touching her arm. “Calm down, we’re gonna figure this out, okay?” She promised. Belle jerked from her touch and shook her head.

“Figure what out?! What’s going on? Where is he?!”

“They heard the gunshot down the street and-”

Belle shoved her out of the way to try and get to the shop, stopping short when she looked at the pavement.

His cane. His keys. His car still parked around the corner. And…

She knelt slowly, looking at the little box on the ground, the tag tied to the bow reading her name in elegant gold scrawl. She almost didn’t notice the blood smeared along the sidewalk with it.

Belle covered her mouth and started to sob, covering her face.

“Hey,” Emma said gently, kneeling beside her. “Belle, I-I know this is tough right now. I know it’s really hard, but you need to think for me. Do you know who would’ve taken him? Some...political people, someone he pissed off in his businesses?”

She swallowed, looking up, but not meeting Emma’s eyes. She knew exactly who would do this, who would steal him like this. The tears in her eyes turned boiling and angry, rage filling her chest.

The worst of it was, she was going to tell him she loved him tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about to get very, very intense, folks. Rating and archive warnings are going to change, so keep an eye out next time~


	11. Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin wakes in Zelena's grasp, and she is determined not to let him go.

The thirst in the back of his throat was incredible. He hadn’t felt this starved in years, but it was something he could endure. More troublesome was the throbbing silver in his shoulder and around his neck, and the IV in his arm taking his blood out.

The heavy collar on his throat was silver, on a short chain made of the same material  keeping him bound to the rickety cot, and his wrists were tied to the frame. Slow rivulets of precious blood dripped down his neck and onto the floor from his fingertips. Sweat slicked the rest of him, his vision swimming too much to really make out the rest of his surroundings.

Without the bullet he might be able to focus more, but at the moment he only knew he was in pain, his blood was being taken from him and it wasn’t good. The ache and fatigue in his body told him it was daylight out, and he’d likely start bleeding  elsewhere soon too.

His jacket and tie were gone, top buttons undone likely to give room to strap the collar around his throat. He fought for every breath, events slowly coming back to him.

The gun. Zelena. The shop. The bullet. Belle.

His eyes grew in a panic. “Belle.” She didn’t know where he was, she didn’t know if he was alright, what if she thought he left her? What if she was wondering right at this moment what she’d done to make him leave her?

Or worse, what if she didn’t even care?

He tugged a little at the binds on his wrists, curious to see just how weak he was and how hard it would be to break them. He hissed, the thin chains digging in deeper and burning through a new layer of skin. A twist of his legs revealed his ankles were bound as well.

“Fuck,” he spat, slumping down again and swallowing around the collar. Not good, none of this was good.

He took slow breaths, keeping his eyes closed, trying not to give in to the delirium that was threatening to settle in. His mind was a fragile thing, had been since he was turned, and with the bright light above his head swimming and bobbing around, the throb of his temples, the thirst in his throat he was bound to spiral into the madness not far beneath the surface.

The Dark One wasn’t given much time to himself, however. A door opened somewhere, ice cold air hurrying in and making him tense. He drew himself in, glaring toward the source.

“Oh, my monster’s awake,” Zelena chuckled. He cringed at her voice, briefly shutting his eyes. “Aw, are you not happy to see me, Rumple? Awfully rude of you, isn’t it?”

“Not rude to tie someone up in a cellar, then?” He grunted, glaring at her. She cocked her head, grabbing the chain on his collar and jerking him forward. He shut his eyes and swallowed any sounds of pain, the metal forming blisters where it touched fresh skin; the bullet sank deeper.

“You can’t see that I’m doing this for your own good, can you?” She asked with that wide smile of hers.

He looked at the bag of his drained blood before his dark eyes settled on her again. “Oh that?” She laughed. “That’s for me. You see, the older the vampire, the stronger their blood, and I know as sweet,” she leaned in closer, inhaling deeply in the hollow of his throat “and savory, as yours must be, I should build up a supply while I can. I can only imagine the bliss I’ll feel from it.”

Without warning she jammed her thumb into the bullet hole in his shoulder and he screamed, fangs coming out in defense.

“Well don’t fuss, I need to get it out, don’t I?!” She laughed, twisting and clawing inside the wound and withdrawing the bullet with a smirk. “I knew you’d make pretty sounds for me. I simply can’t wait to hear more.” She sucked the blood off the bullet, still holding his collar taut, forcing him to watch. She giggled and looked at it. “I think I’ll keep this,” she nodded. “As a token for how we got started.”

“There is no ‘we,’” he panted, eyes never leaving the obsession in hers. “There never was. There never will be.”

Zelena scowled, wrapping the chain around her hand to pull him closer. He leaned his face away as best as he could. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, pet,” she smiled. “You are mine now. It’s only a matter of time before I make it official. I need to convince you it’s the right choice first, don’t I? You’ll want to be with me, Rumple. You’ll choose me. Not Regina, not some pathetic little worm, useless, horrid little bitch you want to fuck-”

“Belle is everything you aren’t,” he snarled immediately, protective of her even when she wasn’t near. “And she is everything I want.”

The terrifying flash of pure rage sparked in her eyes, and he had mere seconds to react. She forced his mouth open and shoved the bullet inside, clamping her hand under his jaw to keep it closed while he screamed.

He shut his eyes and tensed, jerking his head to try and get away from her while sheer agony flooded his mouth and his head. The pain there only grew worse, his entire body seizing under the horrific burns melting into his tongue and the roof of his mouth. The stress of the collar on his neck had been choking him already without this new blood flooding his throat. He coughed and choked, the blood spattering on his lips and dripping from his nose. His otherworldly tears welled in his eyes as he thrashed, hardly able to hear the woman’s ramblings.

“You’re going to have to be a bit more mindful, pet,” she hissed. “See, this can be a very good process for the both of us, or you can keep misbehaving. Is that what you want?” He just gasped, wheezing and fighting not to swallow the damned thing.

She grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to look at her. “IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?!”

He winced and shook his head, gasping in relief when she moved her hand away. He lurched over the side of the bed to the best of his ability and spat the mouthful of blood and the bullet onto the floor, taking shuddering gasps.

“There’s a good pet,” she smirked, smoothing his hair back and shushing him as he gagged and slowly found he hadn’t the strength to heal. He fell back on the cot, gasping roughly, unable to speak with his mouth in shambles, blood and dead skin a constant down his throat. He coughed and leaned away from her hand again.

“Now, when I talk about the little whore you’ve leashed, you keep your own opinions to yourself. If you don’t…” She chuckled, glancing at the mess on the floor. “Well, I have a lot worse things I could do to you than that.”

He continued to gasp, trying not to look at her. She slapped him and some blisters burst in his mouth, causing him to cry out again. “Did you hear me?” She asked calmly, looking into his hateful eyes, grinning as the fire in them died. He shut his eyes and tipped his head minimally, submitting.

Zelena grinned and let him go. “Good pet.” She reached into a bag he hadn’t noticed until now and took out bottles of artificial blood, setting them out of his reach but well within his line of sight.

He fought a grunt of longing, his eyes following them as she set each one down, the thirst stronger. It would only curb that a little but it would give him the strength to heal and ease some of this blinding pain.

“What?” Zelena chuckled, shaking one of the bottles. “This? Is this what you want?” He nodded, closing his eyes and forgoing his dignity. He didn’t think he would hang onto it long as it were. She smiled her sickly grin and opened it, cocking her head. “How badly do you want it?”

He couldn’t speak, if he tried he’d do nothing but gurgle, splutter and choke some more, but he knew that’s what she wanted. Suffering. He swallowed his own hollow blood to minimize it, and brokenly managed a ‘please’ which came out as a garbled sound that left his tongue throbbing and blood spilling down his chin.

“Aw, shh,” she clicked her tongue, wiping his mouth with his shirt, dragging her fingers along the exposed part of his chest. He shuddered.

“Pathetic little thing aren’t you?” He didn’t answer, just fought not to look at her. She yanked him up by the collar and pressed the edge of the bottle to his lips, grinning at the need etched across his face. He panted, tried to tip his head forward, to urge her, but it only prolonged it. “Desperation is such a pretty color on you…” She tipped it forward, just enough to allow him a mouthful.

It was foul. Ice cold, dated, and went down with the same texture and unpleasantness as rotted cream of wheat. He shuddered and swallowed, his mouth healing in seconds, the edge taken off his headache, and as he went back for more, she capped it.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she chuckled. “And what would I do with you if you were strong, hm? You might get mouthy again, and I can’t have that.” She stood, setting the bottle away from him with the others. “I’ll be back later, pet,” she smiled. “Don’t wait up…”

She went back up the stairs, closing the door to what he now understood was a cage as she went and finally letting the cellar door fall shut with a loud clang. He heard a padlock close.

He finally relaxed, gasping and trying not to panic, not to cry. She’d see if he did and he could only guess what she would do if she saw blood staining under his eyes.

Rumplestiltskin was utterly terrified of this woman, of her erratic behavior, her cruelty, her touch, and the...lust in her eyes when he writhed in pain. It made him sick to think about.

His mind was already starting to turn against him, hissing out her insults again, repeating them in Milah’s voice, his father’s voice, his son’s. The constant bombardment, snarls of the word monster, pet all making him shriek in humiliation and pain. He shut his eyes and tried not to listen, tried to focus on the softest tinny of support, the quietest, warmest testament of care from a gentle, beautiful woman who only ever wanted his happiness. Or so she said.

The other voices wouldn’t allow her to speak up. The cacophony grew to drown her out and soon that was gone. He shut his eyes and clenched his fists. His captivity had only just begun, and he couldn’t possibly hope to come out of this intact.

He trembled, wondering briefly if Belle missed him before that was ripped away too and dragged further into darkness. He was only allowed the smallest ember of hope that she was trying to find him.

~*~

“He’s the bloody Dark One, of course he has enemies!”

Belle watched Rumplestiltskin’s progeny yell back and forth with Sheriff Swan in the midst of the empty bar, listening to them argue.

“He was still a king, Killian, people don’t just kidnap kings,” Cora scoffed.

“So this would have to be someone pretty high up?” Emma interjected, her jaw tight, arms folded across her chest.

“It would have to be, wouldn’t it?” Regina asked. “He stepped out of line too many times and this is what happens.”

“What does that mean, ‘stepped out of line’?” Emma frowned.

“He doesn’t listen to the Authority very well…” Cora sighed, wringing her hands. “But he hasn’t been in serious trouble for nearly a century, my daughter so willfully forgets.” She glared at her. Regina scoffed and folded her arms.

“Has the Authority even been notified?” Killian asked. “If they haven’t and they don’t hear it from us-”

“Rumplestiltskin has gotten himself out of worse messes without their involvement before, I don’t think we need to launch a full scale investigation unless-”

“Unless humans are getting dangerously cocky,” Killian finished.

“Which wouldn’t surprise me,” Regina snorted. “All the rallies they’ve held in New York, it was only a matter of time before they go after the king.”

“You could sound just a little remorseful that he’s gone,” Cora huffed.

“If he was in that big of trouble, he’d summon us, wouldn’t he?” She demanded.

“Not if it could get us hurt too. He does care about us.”

“He shows it so well, doesn’t he?” Killian snorted.

“Just a little bit of fret is all I ask…”

“Why, to be more like you, Mother? Is that what I’m to do, fret over him like he can’t take care of himself?” Regina spat.

“Personally I don’t care if he makes it back or not,” Killian smirked. “I can’t stand the bastard. Has no idea how to have a bit of fun.”

“And you know fun, don’t you?” Belle asked, voice hard, eyes cold. Killian pursed his lips and quieted while Cora and Regina began to bicker again.

Belle wrung her hands, the little box she found on the sidewalk unopened but resting in her lap. She wouldn’t open it until he was with her again. It didn’t feel right.

“So the only people who have the capability of actually being able to take him are…?” Emma goaded, trying to keep the conversation on her questions and not their bickering.

“A group of well trained humans, older, stronger vampires, or possibly a pack of werewolves, but he’s on good terms with their pack leader- He works here,” Belle interrupted before the younger vampires could start on another tangent. “Most likely, anyway.”

Emma paused, looking up from the pad she was writing from and made her way closer to her, talking softly, fruitlessly seeing as their company could hear their heartbeats without a struggle. “Belle, I know you think this Zelena person did it, but...I mean I talked to her earlier today, and I don’t think she’s anything more than an obsessed junkie.”

“You didn’t see anything wrong? Nothing at all with how she talked about him?” She pressed, looking at her hard.

Emma sighed. “I have to look into the bigger stuff first. If this is an organization or some faction trying to start something with vampires and I don’t look into that first, I’m gonna lose my job. It’s…”

“Politics,” Belle said softly, nodding. “I get it.”

Emma pursed her lips. “You really care about him, don’t you?” She said quietly. Belle nodded weakly. “I promise you, Belle, we’re gonna find him. From what I understand Mr. Gold isn’t one to go down easy.” Belle paled a little, shaking her head.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” she said softly, not looking at her anymore. “Just. Do your job, please. I just want him home.”

Emma nodded and gave her and the other vampires her card. “If you guys hear anything, give me a call,” she said, leaving the bar moments later.

Belle looked blankly at the card, too numb to move. Emma had it wrong, they all had it wrong. Zelena was incredibly dangerous, desperate and- and Belle had nothing to prove that except a gut feeling and the way Rumple behaved around her. Cautioned, careful with his words, firm with boundaries he’d established, always tensed and making sure he wasn’t standing too close or giving some sort of sign he wanted to even speak to her.

He policed every behavior he had when she was around and Belle might not understand every cause for that, though he’d told her a bit of their history, but it made her uneasy. She sighed, slumping forward and running her hand over her face, worried sick.

“He had that big of an impact on you, did he?”

Belle looked up at Killian, her eyes dark. “How is that your business?”

“He’s my maker, love, everything he does is my business,” he smirked, sitting across from her. She stood and walked so she was further away from him.  

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” she spat back. “My relationship with him has nothing to do with you. And I’ve no real reason to talk to you either.”

“Forgive me for being a little curious about the girl my maker’s taken a liking to after all this time. Never seen anything like it from him. Didn’t really think he was capable of being so kind to a waif like you,” he remarked, gesturing to her with his hook, taking a sip of his drink with the other.

Belle stared at him, shaking her head. “You’re the oldest of his progeny and you still don’t know who he is, how exactly is that?”

“Dunno if you’ve noticed, but the Crocodile doesn’t share much.”

“Why do you call him that?” She asked, glaring at him.  

“Ah, see, that is really none of your business,” he chuckled.

“If that’s not my business then his and my relationship isn’t yours,” she said pointedly. “So if you’d kindly stop being a hypocrite and leave it alone-”

“I just find it hard to believe that a man with no soul or heart at all can win the affections of an innocent girl like you,” he said, as if to make some sort of complementary point.

“What would you rather he do to me, hm?” She asked, stalking closer to him again. “Tie me up and eat me whenever he wants? Torment me, torture me? Make me dance and call me ugly and pathetic, is that what you’d rather? For him to be like you?!”

“Seems a bit more in character is all I’m saying love,” he said, unperturbed. “And I did apologize for that.”

“You don’t even care, do you?” She challenged, ignoring the last. “You don’t care that he’s gone, that he could be hurt, that he could die. You couldn’t care less, could you?”

“No,” he admitted, shrugging. “You want me to be honest with you, Belle, is that what you’re getting at?”

“I think you owe me as much,” she spat, glaring at him. She didn’t move when he leaned in closer, his sneer twitching into a smirk, eyes brimming with malice.

“I hope the bastard is suffering. I hope he’s bleeding, I hope he’s ripped open thinking about all the terrible things he’s done, all the suffering _he_ has caused me! After centuries I hope he pays for every fucking minute of it and crawls back here and BEGS ME FOR FORGIVENESS SO I CAN SPIT IN HIS FACE-”

Belle slapped him, hard, without really thinking. It didn’t hurt him, she knew that, but it made her feel better to do it. Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “You’re wrong about him,” she breathed. “I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s not that man anymore. Maybe you’re the one with the problem.” She pulled her coat on and stalked through the door. “Revenge is such a pathetic color on you, Killian.”

The door clapped shut and he sat there, staring at the door, cheek warm but not stinging. He shook his head and drank, hating that he worried for the Crocodile on instinct, which is what the bastard wanted when he did this to him.

He pulled his sleeve back, looking at the tattoo there, _Milah_ written in a heart, He paused, staring at it a moment. Belle knew nothing about her precious Rumple, had no idea what kind of man he was before. Perhaps she was right, perhaps he was different. Didn’t mean he didn’t deserve this, whatever he was enduring.

He looked out the door again, shaking his head. “Least she had the courage to hit me,” he muttered, draining the blood from the glass as Belle’s heartbeat faded from his ears.

Away from The Rabbit Hole, Belle hugged herself, sick and crying silently, the box in her hand, her lips pressed to it. “I’ll find you,” she swore, wishing Rumple might be able to feel that, feel her care for him, her worry, her love. “I will. I promise.”

 


	12. Chipped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is at a loss; Zelena's torture reaches a new level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned before, please notice the archive warnings and rating have changed. Stay safe and enjoy~

“So were you always like this?” Belle asked, pouring the hot water from the kettle into the pot.

Rumple looked up from his book, cocking his brow. “Like what, dearie?”

“You know...domestic?” She chuckled, dipping the tea bags. “I mean, they call you the Dark One, but I don’t really see it.”

He shut the book, laughing a little. “I’ve settled down a bit. Considerably so with you around.”

“Oh, wonderful, I’ve made the king sedentary,” she giggled.

“No, no. My temper’s better is all,” he explained. “I’ve much more reason to be...something close to happy now.” She looked up at him, the warmth in his smile and his eyes spreading to her own heart and blooming up to her cheeks where they pinked. He looked away shyly, clearing his throat.

“But, um, before…centuries ago when I was at my worst, I had no mercy, no pity. I was out to get what I could for myself, without remorse or regard to who I might be hurting.

“I started making deals with people. Desperate souls looking for an answer to their problems. I did something they wanted -usually killing someone; why else contact a vampire?- and they’d give me something in return. In the beginning I asked for money, more often than not. Keeping it is how I ended up with what I have now.

“I kept my son from being drafted into that war because of this. I saved him and he lived a full one. Even after he left, he… He had a good life and I’ll never regret that. I regret my actions, what this power did to me, what it warped me into.” He looked up at her. “A good deal of what I was before I met you, Belle. You, um, you have so much goodness in you, did you know that?”

She shook her head, shy. “No, I...I guess I didn’t.”

“You radiate light and warmth. It’s incredible, what you do. The good that you’ve brought out in me. Created in me.”

“Rumple, it was already there,” she assured. “But from what I understand, your life hasn’t been the easiest of things. Not that that takes away responsibility for what you’ve done, but it helps a little. I understand why you...you’re so easily agitated.”

“So delicate with your phrasing too,” he smiled, looking up at her a moment until she turned away, blushing. “I earned my title, Belle. I was the monster in the dark, the creature humans and vampires feared. I truly only discriminated when killing if there was a child involved. I was already hated, I spent my entire life being loathed and kicked around and now I had the power to kick back, and they hated that more.”  He chuckled softly. “It’s strange, how people want to make you into a monster, and then are surprised when you actually become one, hm?”

Belle listened intently, watching him as he spoke, but he wasn’t looking back at her. His eyes were far away, pained. She started pouring herself a cup, still standing beside the table with the intent of carrying it over to sit by him once it was made.

“Once I began, once I was turned and started taking back what the world had denied me I started to lose my son. Baelfire loathed every moment of it, but it kept him fed, clothed and clean, which was more than I could do before. With this power, this...curse I have there was nothing holding me back. Nothing to be afraid of anymore. I killed hordes of people, especially after Bae was gone, but they deserved it. I’m not one to slaughter innocent people. Attracts the wrong kind of attention.” He smirked. “Though there was that time I skinned children for their pelts.”

Belle started, dropping the cup and staring at him with wide eyes. “You-”

He reached out to her, smiling a little. “Belle, that was a quip, I’m not serious,” he assured. She relaxed, laughing a little.

“Oh, um, right,” she smiled, shaking her head.

“There’s a great deal that makes me vile, Belle, but I’m not that bad,” he chuckled.

“You aren’t vile,” she assured. Belle realized the teacup was still on the ground and she winced, kneeling to pick it up. “Oh, my, um… I’m so sorry. It...it’s chipped,” she said, holding it up to show him. “You-you can hardly see it.”

He smiled gently and stood, tipping her chin up while she fussed with it. “It’s just a cup.” She smiled again, folding her lips when he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He smiled, looking down at the spilled tea. “Now, my rug on the other hand…”

Belle held the cup in her hands now, taking slow, shaky breaths. The house was dark, empty and too quiet. It had been for close to a week now. She rubbed her eyes, pressing her lips to the cup and shutting her eyes.

Sheriff Swan was dealing with interrogators from both humans and vampires on a daily basis. Words like ‘terrorism’ and ‘act of war’ floated between the two with a constant worry that the king would turn up dead and ignite an already tense situation.

Rumple’s progeny constantly bickered back and forth and did nothing to help for fear of upsetting the vampire authority and getting into trouble for the damage something like that could cause, and no one would listen to her.

Red tape, politics, it didn’t matter when his _life_ was being gambled with. When something horrific could be happening to him -and she had this horrendous feeling in the pit of her stomach there was- none of the rest mattered.

She went to the bar every day, watched Zelena, kept her eyes on her constantly, but she didn’t act out of the ordinary. She still glared at her like she wanted to peel her face off with her bare hands, made her rounds with the other vampires for their blood, drank. Her dark looks weren’t enough to confront her, and if Zelena was on V there’d be no chance for Belle to defend herself should she get violent.

For the moment she would wait, and hope that everyone realized what was going on and help her find him, or prove her wrong and bring him back to her before the need arose for her to intervene herself.

She sniffed and cried onto the porcelain. “I’ll find you,” she whispered. “I’ll find you, Rumple.”

~*~

She left him in the dark.

In the pitch black of the cellar, left only with the thundering of his mind trying to cope with the hunger, the torture she put him through, he wasn’t faring well. He’d no idea how much time had passed, but sleeping wasn’t an option for him. There was no telling what she might do if he did. Exhausted, constantly bleeding or being bled, he couldn’t stop how his mind combated the situation.

“All the voices in my head, will be quiet when I’m... _dead.”_

She wasn’t going to kill him. That wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him to choose her, to tell her she was special and wanted and that he’d turn her and be with her forever.

Her behavior was erratic, her moods impossible to gauge. He stopped speaking after awhile, unsure what would happen if he did, and even then he wasn’t safe.

She beat him  daily, sometimes more, screamed at him, got too close, touched him too much, particularly when she was high on his blood.

He couldn’t do anything but take it and hope that it would stop soon.

Zelena kept him weak, as she’d promised. Three mouthfuls of rancid blood three times a day, and that didn’t help him either. Constantly afraid, constantly awake, constantly bombarded with all that was wrong in his mind. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He lied in the pitch black now, trying to breathe and think something coherent but it was all lost in muddled, loud thoughts.

The only thing that pulled and held his focus was the witch and the fear he felt just looking at her. She’d told him the last time she was here she had a surprise for tonight, and each time he thought of it he gripped the cot tight and tried to swallow screams.

Which is why he was alert when the door opened and she came down the stairs and flicked the light on. He shivered at the air that touched his sweaty skin.

“Is my pretty pet awake?” She sang. He stared through the netted pattern and tried not to shake, squinting against the sudden light. When it touched him he remembered the blood on his face and in his hair from her outbursts, blood she’d failed to clean and he felt even more like a dog. “Oh, so you are,” she chuckled, sliding the IV needle out, the track mark there swollen and oozing, but she didn’t cover it. He winced, but made no other sound.

“Are you ready for part of your surprise, Rumple?” She grinned, reaching into her bag and taking out two things: The shears she’d purchased from him, and a straight razor.

“Now isn’t this lovely?” She said, turning the razor over in her hand and opening it close to his face. The handle was as intricately designed and decorated as the sewing scissors were, and he wasn’t sure what portion of it was silver, but some of it had to be.

“This belonged to my father, when he was alive,” she ghosted it along his stubbled cheek, smirking when he flinched. “I shaved him, and now I’m going to do the same for you. Have to keep up appearances.”

He shifted nervously. “Appearances, appearances… For what, for why?” He asked, as if that bungled thought would sway her into stopping.

She chuckled. “It’s what must be done! My father said- Oh stop squirming, little worm, only the handle’s silver,” she sighed. He relaxed a fraction. “Come here.” She wrapped the chain holding his collar around her wrist to keep him close, gripping his chin and gliding the blade along his jaw. He held his breath, his entire body tense. “My father said, that no matter how we were feeling on the inside, we had to put our best face on.”

She smiled at him, watching him struggle with the danger he was in, with the trust he had to put in her because he was so powerless.

Each scrape of it across his face was hot and burning with nothing to soothe it, his skin inflamed from it, but he didn’t move. He didn’t breathe unless she was cleaning it off on a rag and it was away from him.

“This is going to be a very special night, Rumple,” she grinned. “Not the most special, but special all the same. Aren’t you excited?”

He just looked at her, terrified of answering wrong with a weapon so close.

“Of _course_ you are.” She nicked his skin on purpose and he hissed, tensing with fear. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

She cleaned the blood from his face, some of the water cool enough to soothe his razor burn, and he didn’t breathe easier until she put the razor away entirely. He never looked away from her, nothing around to distract him, no solace anywhere.

“There,” she smiled, running her fingertips along his soft face. “Handsome as ever.”

The chain unraveled and he fell back to the mattress, taking shallow breaths. She smiled at him again, a dark, horrid grin with hunger in her eyes.

“You do look so lovely like this,” she remarked, picking up the shears now. He gave a tearless breath of a sob, shifting away from them. “Helpless. I know that’s why you wanted to be turned. So you didn’t have to feel that way anymore. I must say though, Rumple, it suits you better than a king. At least like this being a coward is expected, hm?”

She opened the shears and cut the buttons from his shirt in one swipe that made him cry out in surprise and anticipated pain that didn’t come. She slid her cold, unforgiving hands down his newly exposed skin, walking the shears down tip by tip, leaving little burns as they went.

He watched her, winced with each new sting as he began to tremble in pure terror. He couldn’t breathe or look away.

“It’s so hard to tell under all those layers how scrawny you are,” she chuckled. “Hard to believe that squishy girl of yours even likes that.” She rested the shears against the button of his trousers, grinning at him as he searched for something safe to say and closing his eyes in shame when he couldn’t.

She was right, Belle couldn’t want him, no one could. But Zelena was looking at him as if-

The shears bit into the fabric and started cutting it away, the horrific sound of it ripping grating in his ears.

“No, no, don’t. Don’t do this,” he muttered, too soft to be heard. It’s only when they moved to bare him entirely to her that his voice rose. “Please! Please, don’t, Zelena-”

He closed his eyes and fought to cover himself.

“Oops,” she smirked.

He sobbed once. He was sweating, scared and trembling. “Not this! Not this, please, you don’t have to- Don’t make me, please!”

She chuckled, her hands roaming him, following him as he desperately writhed away. “Louder,” she dared. Tears welled in his eyes, more blood to be lost, and they stung bitterly.

“Please! Please, not this. An-anything else, please! Don’t, don’t touch me!” He begged. “Please-”

He choked off.

She’d grabbed him and started coaxing him along, keeping her eyes locked with his as she forced him into arousal. He sobbed again, shaking his head and looking away. “Don’t, don’t please, no more. N-no more-” His fangs came out involuntarily, cutting the inside of his mouth when he tried to hide them but there was no point.

“You can stop pretending you don’t like it,” she smirked.

“I don’t! I don’t…”

She laughed. “Your body seems to be telling me something else…” She grinned.

“Please, I beg you, please no. Belle won’t-”

Zelena’s eyes flashed horrifically and she forced his head back, clamping the shears around one of his fangs before the rest of the words came. “Say her name again, and not only will I tear these out of your head so you starve for the next decade, but I will bring her here and gut her on top of your pathetic nakedness. Is that what you want?” She tugged a little and he gasped, shaking his head, minute as the gesture was.

She let go and dropped the shears on the floor.

He whimpered when she straddled him, quiet now. He shook his head and still fought to get away despite how fruitless it was, clenching his jaw while her hands scratched and scraped over his skin as she appraised his body.

She was babbling something about them being joined together, how this would make him understand that he needed to choose her, why she was right but he couldn’t hear that.

All he felt was bile in the back of his throat, overwhelming shame threatening to drown him. Her heat started to engulf him and he fought not to gag, shutting his eyes.

She grabbed his hair and forced his face up. “Don’t you look away from me again,” she snarled, still touching him, mapping his body.

As she settled on him entirely she found the scar on his ankle. She scowled in disgust and pinched the marred flesh, as if that would take it away.

He sobbed, kicking weakly and shaking his head, hard. “Stop! Stop it, stop! Pl-” She covered his mouth with her hand, snarling.

“Who knew there were bits of you that were so hideous?” She grinned, watching tears start to streak down his face.

Her hand was quickly replaced with her mouth and he was forced to endure the hell she put him through. Slow, grueling and agonizing as it was. He gripped the cot in tight hands, wrists bleeding, throat torn open with each of her movements, every muscle taut and shaking with the softest pleas falling from his lips.

When it was over he was sweating, trembling and finally turned his face away from her, face covered in bloody tears. Even now that she was off of him he could still feel her, still smell her skin and there would be no relief.

She laughed on her way out, shaking her head. “See now, even if you never realize you’re supposed to be with me, that little bitch of yours won’t want you.”

Belle wouldn’t. Sweet, pure and soft as she was, unsoiled and perfect, she would cringe if he came near her now.

The door closed and he was in darkness once again, and then he screamed. In anger, in pain and in utter humiliation, haunted with the horrible thoughts of what might happen if Belle saw him again and knew how utterly foul he was.

He cried brokenly, exhausted and weak without the mercy of being able to cover himself. And now he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to be saved.

 


	13. Desperate Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelena's torture becomes too much for the Dark One to handle; Belle takes things into her own hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tags have changed yet again with the addition of this chapter. It's worse than the previous, do note that.

It was worse when she was high.

Vampire blood gave humans immense strength and...stamina. Coupled with her hallucinations that mostly had to do with him begging her for more rather than mercy he was lost. She just wouldn’t stop, she wouldn’t get off of him, she wouldn’t stop touching him. Her sweat lingered on his skin, her lips and teeth found his mouth and his throat and he’d done his best not to react anymore.

Begging, sounds of pain, attempts to speak to her, to reach her in her addled state was pointless. He became as vacant as possible, his tears the only indicator of the torment he was enduring. The agony she was inflicting.

She promised over and over that she was going to force them together, force him to make her ‘his’ and there would be nothing to stop her. He wasn’t sure it would work as she wanted it, but he was prepared to lie, prepared to do anything to keep her off of him.

His skin was raw from her constant want and each new movement was like fire, nerves being pinched that sent shocks of pain through his whole body. She babbled out nonsense, caressed and scratched his face, pulled his hair too hard. At times she would simply start hitting him or cutting him.

His shirt was in tatters around him, dirty and bloody, his only source of humanity -or personhood at least- left. Otherwise he was an animal. A toy. Something to be played with and left when it wasn’t fun anymore, something to be starved and jeered and torn apart from the inside out.

Yes, he was worthless, he confessed it so to her. He was pathetic, he was a coward, an imp, a monster, a horrible excuse for a man. All of this he screamed out to avoid her tearing open the brand on his hip, but it was a fruitless labor.

She carved it back open, grinning at him. “Such a shame that you’ve forgotten this. No one should forget where they came from, right, Rumple?”

He passed out from pain and exhaustion, woken not an hour later by a bottle of the rotted blood being forced down his throat, all of its contents. He spluttered and choked and gagged and it dripped from his nose but he’d no choice but to swallow what she’d force fed him.

Zelena didn’t stop until it was empty, laughing as he retched some of it back up onto the floor and trembled, sweating and gasping out apologies. The sooner he apologized for what he’d done, even if he’d no idea what that was, the better.

“You are so ungrateful, you know?” She snapped, straddling him. He whimpered in anticipation, immediately bringing his eyes to hers so he wouldn’t be punished for that too. “I give you a bed, I feed you, I clean you, I fuck you, and what do I get in return? Hateful looks and pleas for it all to stop. Most people would be so thankful that I was here to do those things for them. But you’re a naughty pet, aren’t you?” He shook his head.

“N-no. No, I’m not, I’ll-” She slapped him in quite the same manner as his wife had, and now he couldn’t tell the difference between then and now, his mind slipping him back and forth between the two.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” She hissed, forcibly holding his chin. He blinked at the tears in his eyes which slid thickly down his cheeks.

“I said I-I’m sorry, and I’ll be good,” he whispered.

“Good pet,” she grinned, reaching behind her to work him up so she could have him again.

He whimpered, tensing in pain and disgust, shutting his eyes a moment, just a moment.   
“Please. Please, it hurts! No more, no more-”

It didn’t stop her, of course. She hiked her skirt and put a drop of his blood on her tongue and sank down over him for her own pleasure.

He cried this time, the pain too much, both in the raw skin of his groin and the throbbing of the brand reminding him that he was, in fact, a coward. A heinous cowardly freak, a sad little man who spent too much of his life hiding in shadows and then became part of them. A reminder of yet another way he let down his son.

All of this struck him with each rough and burning smack of Zelena’s hips and her fingernails digging into the brand and he screamed.

“Oh, isn’t it beautiful, Rumple?” She sighed, smearing his blood over her face. “I’ll be all yours soon. And nothing can tear us apart. Wouldn’t you like that?”

He said nothing, closing his eyes and listening to the strained squeaks of the cot underneath him. No matter what he said she’d hear something entirely different, and if he said nothing then she’d hear something anyway. Unless she truly wanted to be reached she was lost to the blood she’d ingested.

Once again it took hours and he was left trembling and quaking and left hollow and frightened.

“You were so good for me tonight, pet,” she cooed, sliding off of him and grinning. “You’ve put me in such a good mood, I think I’ll reward you with something. I’ll give you something you want. Ask for it and I’ll give it to you, hm? How about a blanket? Nice warm shower? Fresher blood? The light on when I leave?”

Rumple looked up at her, face soaked in his bloody tears, his big dark eyes brimming with pain. “I want to go home.”

She laughed. She cackled in his face and shook her head. “I never knew you one to pass up an opportunity.” He looked away, his lips shaking. “Aw, poor little imp. So cute and pathetic. It’s delicious, really.” She dragged her tongue across his cheek, catching one of his tears. “Mmn. Very.”

He watched her go, knowing that he’d squandered the opportunity that wouldn’t likely arise again in the near future, but he didn’t plead for a second chance or call out to her for mercy. It would only make her stay longer.

Trembling in the dark his hallucinations returned to make his pain worse. And this time a sweet, sweet voice spoke to him.

“Belle?”

“Shh...rest, you rest, Rumple, I’m here. It’s alright.” Her soft hand on his face, a cool cloth that wiped the blood and sweat from his face and neck, her beautiful lips pressing kisses along his forehead to cure his constant madness.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pleading.

“Hey, none of that,” she assured, the glint of her eyes just barely visible in the black, and she’d leveled them with his. “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Such a lovely apparition, but it was a lie. He knew that, feeling her phantom comforts and voice that filled him with such false hope for just a little while. It was enough to help him sleep, however, even if it was briefly. But it was enough.

He only hoped he wouldn’t have to imagine her for the rest of his life, eternity or otherwise.

~*~

“NO!” Belle slammed both palms on the desk to quiet Sheriff Swan and the other bickering vampires, wolves and humans around the desk. “I’ve had enough of this!”

“And who are you, exactly?” The Magistrate to the vampires, who also went by the Apprentice for some reason, asked, glaring pointedly at her.

“His Royal Highness’ girlfriend,” Tamara, one of the humans standing opposite him, informed.

“And why is she here?”

“Because I’m the only one who gives a damn about something other than how this is going to be handled politically on CNN tonight!” She yelled, glaring around at all of them.

“There’s just a lot to get through, Belle,” the other wolf representative with Graham, Ruby, shrugged. “Hoops they have to jump through. It’d be the same if it were just a regular vampire. Maybe with a little less urgency, though.”

“Urgency?!” She demanded, knowing this wasn’t her fault, nor was she trying to downplay her feelings but she was so fed up and tired and angry about this whole process. “It’s been nearly two weeks, two weeks and you people haven’t a clue as to where he is!”

“And you do?” The Apprentice asked, squinting at her.

“Well if she did,” a man named Isaac said from behind the notebook he’d been scribbling in since he came in with the rest of the vampires piped up with an undeservedly smug grin. “It’d be a horrible waste of everyone’s time. Why don’t you have a seat, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart?!”

“Hey!” Emma yelled, standing from her desk.

The man’s fangs popped out and Ruby snarled, moving to get in front of her but Belle held up her hand.

“Fine,” she said, her eyes daggers for all of them and settling on Emma. “I’m...I’m leaving.” She turned on her sharp heels and started for the door.

“Belle,” Emma called, making her pause and look back. “Don’t...don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

She scoffed. “What? Like you lot?”

~*~

“Hey.”

Normally someone knocking the hat clean off his head warranted a nice toss through a window, especially when his potential meal had been interrupted by such rudeness but turning around and seeing the tiny dark haired girl he realized it was for a damn good reason. Had to be with that look on her face.

“Belle?” He asked, shooing away the person wanting to be fed on. “The hell are you doing in New York, little dove?”

“I need your help.”

“How did you even find me here?” He scoffed. She held up her phone.

“You checked in on Facebook, Jefferson,” she said blandly.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, looking her over.

She looked exhausted, dead on her feet in those tall heels, her face puffy, skin pale in an unhealthy way and he frowned, looking around the rest of the bar.

“Where’s Rumplestiltskin?” He asked. “Gold would never leave your side if you came here, what’s going on?”

She swallowed, wringing her hands. “He’s gone. Someone took him- It’s been all over the news!” She urged, chastising him, and he took it. He’d been busy being up to no good and breaking human laws in terms of theft and nibbling on Twihards, not watching the news like a good citizen.

“I-”

“He’s been gone for almost two weeks, and I know where he is,” she pressed. “But no one will help me, no one will even look where I said he was I...I really need your help. Please,” she blinked up at him with haggard, hopeful eyes and the yes was out of his mouth without hesitation.

He checked the time. “We gotta go back tomorrow, though, the sun’ll be up in an hour. Is that okay? Can you wait that much longer?” He asked in earnest. He’d chance it if she asked him to.

She nodded, swallowing thickly. “Okay. Okay, but the moment the sun starts to go down-”

“We’re out of here,” he swore.

Belle trudged her way into the room Jefferson had rented, as this bar housed light tight rooms, and sat on the sofa, where she curled up and collapsed in exhaustion.

Her dreams were much like her vampire’s were. Soft hands and gentle voices, assurance that he was alright and wrapped up in her arms. His soft hair against her cheek, safe and warm at home in bed  together and everything was just wonderful. But that’s why they call them dreams.

~*~

“Aren’t you excited, pet?” Zelena grinned, holding the shears in firm hands. “Finally going to be mine, doesn’t that make you happy?”

He didn’t want this. He didn’t know if it could be done or not but it was happening regardless. She would drink from him, and try and force him to drink from her and with the state he was in, after constant starvation with almost no reprieve he wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to resist that.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t answer her and earned himself a slap. “Are you even listening to me?” She scowled. “This is one of the most important days of my life and you’re not even listening?!”

“N-no, I am!” He assured, his voice cracking and broken from all its abuse. “I, I just thought…”

“What?” She snapped, forcing his face up.

“I thought it would be nicer if I...if I could hold you? While we did this?” he mumbled. “I...I can’t stop thinking about you, Zelena. About how wrong I was, about how the only thing that has truly made me unhappy is denying you the gift you, you deserved.”

Her ego and her obsession was what he needed to praise, what he needed to get her distracted enough to pay attention to the wrong things. She kept looking at him warily, watching as he sat up.

“There is no one I want more than I want you,” he said softly. “You’ve shown me that. You’ve shown me what happiness can be. I didn’t understand at first, but I do now. So please. Please, before this happens...untie me?”

Zelena softened. “What about her? Belle?”

His brow pinched. “Who?”

She grinned. “Oh, you have come round, haven’t you, pet?” She smiled, moving to unravel the silver on both hands. He hissed as they were taken off, his heart pounding. If he could kill her, if he could sink his fangs into her and at least knock her out it would be alright. He could get away then. He could get the hell out of here.

He watched her with growing impatience, tense and nearly panting, his attention only taken when she kissed him. And he had to kiss her back, willingly.

His insides burned and churned with the idea of what he was doing, and he brought one hand up to touch her hair, not her skin, but her hair. He wouldn’t be able to stomach anything else, even as she was slowly prying his arm free.

His arms and then his ankles came free and he was close he was so close to getting what he needed. He only touched her clothes, only touched and kissed her enough to keep her distracted from his intentions and free him.

The collar was last and she raked her fingers through his hair, lips above the bloody, blistered lines from the silver, so close to taking it off he even feigned soft but nervous moans to goad her.

“Mmn, do you know what I hate most about you, pet?” She smiled, lips at his throat. He fought a shudder and forced himself to speak.

“How thin I am,” he said without more hesitation.

She chuckled.  “Besides that frail bird look you have? What else?”

He shook his head, breath sharp with anticipation. “I-I don’t know.”

“That you’re a goddamn _liar!”_

He hadn’t seen her take the shears from the floor but before he could protest they were buried deep in his scarred ankle and he screamed, his breath leaving him entirely for a moment in the absolutely blinding agony that shot through his system.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know?!” She demanded. “Did you think I’d somehow believe you changed your mind in just a day?! How stupid do you think I am?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, don’t- Don’t hurt me!” He begged, his hopes gone, his will shattered in that moment, trickling away with the blood from his ankle.

She sneered at him, towering over him with the chains in her hands. “Say please,” she growled. “You always say it so pretty. Beg me like a good whore, like a good pet.”

He shut his eyes, holding his hands in front of his face as if that would offer any protection. Weak. He was so weak after so long with the power to keep people from making him do things like this-

“Please,” he whimpered. “Please, Zelena, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please!”

“Such a pathetic attempt to get away from me. Sneaky little whore, how dare you!”

She brought the chains down across his torso like a whip and he screamed. She flogged him until his voice left him and he was shredded from it, sobbing and drenched in blood.  She cursed him with each stroke, sneered at him and spit at him and shrieked for him to agree with her and didn’t stop when he confessed she was right.

He felt so broken. So hideous and unworthy of care, of love. All he deserved was pain and darkness and the cackling echoing in his own mind at his despair and agony confirmed that. Anything he was given beyond it was mercy and a privilege.

So far gone he even thanked her when she stopped. He thanked her when she broke one of the horrid bottles open and dumped it over him to heal him, thanked her again when she poured a freezing bucket of water over him to rinse it away, because she didn’t want her slut bloodied the next time she fucked him.

And he thanked her.

“No, no, you don’t have to- Please, don’t, please, please,” he whispered, hissing while she bound his hands too high above his head.

“You were going to be mine tonight,” she snarled. “And now? Now you have to earn my love back. And you can start by keeping your mouth shut.”

The silk that had been in his pocket square was shoved in his mouth, and the shears were left in his ankle as a reminder.

He was too gone now, too lost, too scared and unsure anything good in his life, anything at all, existed outside of this cellar.

In the dark he sobbed. And Belle came again but he insisted she was never real. She still promised not to leave and stroked his hair and his face, all false touches, imagined tenderness.

 _“I don’t deserve this,”_ he thought, unable to speak around the gag. _“I don’t deserve you.”_

“Shh…” She whispered, kissing his forehead. “Shh...You’re right.”

 


	14. Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle hurries to find Rumplestiltskin with Jefferson's aid and makes troubling discoveries along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank ChosenofAshura for his amazing help on this chapter~

Anticipation is the worst of tortures. Waiting as one’s stomach curls and solidifies in cold quick dry cement and stays in that unpleasant shape until it’s over. Waves of heat and ice bombarding the system, confusing the sweats and palpitations of the heart. The lungs, at a loss, begin to take sharp breaths and force the lips and mouth to dry and in that panic the hands begin to shake. The body becomes a rattling mess with lower insides churning uncomfortably like a bloated baby fussing on a lap in a soft church service. Feet tap, fingers pick and drum, lips are shredded and nails are devoured all to combat this nightmare of anxiety while the mind constantly revolves around the word ‘resolution,’ because once it ends, everything can go back to normal.

Since Belle had woken in the early afternoon today, her body had gone through cycle after cycle of this mess, and there was nothing to be done about it. Jefferson slept heavily, which made it easier to pace the floor, the rhythmic thumps of her heels soothing the uneven drumming of her heart.

She knew she was right. Zelena had Rumplestiltskin, had kidnapped the King of the Northeastern region for her own gain, her own sick desires without regard for anything else other than herself. Belle was tormented by her imagination and she fought not to think about what was being done to him even now. If he was cold, if he was in pain, if he was frightened, if he could still fight. If he remembered how to fight.

Constantly in her younger years she had heard her father’s friends spout off over and over again that they were kept in POW camps for months or years at a time and came out with some semblance of sanity and lived to lord it over people for the rest of their lives. People had survived the worst conditions, the most awful of abuses that lasted years at a time, so she shouldn’t be worried about him enduring two measly weeks...right?

No.

The people who survived those abuses, she told herself, came out of it with more problems than they could often handle. PTSD for the rest of their lives, therapies that needed to be attended, medication and physicians and constant battles for peace in their minds. And those who refused them, who didn’t know that kind of help existed reacted in a number of ways that could harm those around them, hurt them dearly, turn them into people they didn’t ever intend to be.

Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel of the car being driven much too fast for human reflexes to fathom she watched the world pass by.

“Almost there,” Jefferson said quietly, sensing her unease.

The dryness in her mouth kept her from talking just then, but she nodded. She hugged herself, attempting to stifle that constant gnawing feeling clawing at her gut, still turning things over in her mind repeatedly.

Trauma was different with each person. She’d read about that after her mother died. Constantly ingesting information about why it hurt so much, why the survivor’s guilt clung to her so fiercely, why her father’s words her whole life had bothered her so much and she learned. Yes, others had it worse, much worse, but her pain was valid.

It didn’t matter if someone had spent three days or three years being tortured. The effects were the same. It just depended on how much the mind had to work with.

And from what she understood, Rumplestiltskin’s fragile psyche and unnurtured self-worth had left him vulnerable to agony if the right nerves were pinched through the shadowed chinks in his armor.

Belle swallowed, fighting to replace that hollow feeling in her cemented gut that made it feel as if she were trying to choke down dirt with bravery and determination. She wasn’t sure if it was working or not.

“Just make sure she doesn’t come back,” Belle whispered, now standing in front of Zelena’s house and looking up at Jefferson. “She’s on V, so she...might be more of a match than you think so please be careful.”

Jefferson chuckled, cracking his scarred neck and turning his back to the porch. “Not scared of an obsessed drug addict.”

Belle paused at the door, her voice soft when she spoke. “Rumple said that too.”

Jefferson looked back at her apologetically but she didn’t turn. She slid her credit card alongside the frame of the old farmhouse door and jimmied it open, shoving her way inside.

It bothered her how normal everything looked. A lived in but relatively clean home, mail on the side table by the door, bread box open… It didn’t look like a monster dwelled here. The only thing that was odd was the cabinet of small canning jars filled with red preserves sitting wide open above one of the counters. Strawberries maybe…

Belle crept closer to look at them. Half  a dozen in all, all full and canned neatly. Her brow pinched and she took one out, turning it over in a curious hand. It couldn’t be strawberries, there were no seeds in it, but it was thick and clung to the glass as she turned it. It didn’t look like fruit at all, it looked like… Her frown deepened at the little “R” written on the lid.

She gasped and dropped it, blood pooling onto the floor out of the large gash she’d made in the jar. She leaned up on her toes and looked at all of them, and the R was inscribed on each of them.

“Oh, god, Rumple…” She breathed, throwing all of the jars into the sink where they shattered and burst, all but one, which she tucked into her purse.

She called his name, winding her way through the house and looking in every room, every cupboard, anywhere she could be keeping him.

The rooms and  halls of the home were rather quaint. The green theme bled throughout the abode and it made her feel fenced in, surrounded by her wide eyes and unable to escape them.

She worried that she would somehow know she was here searching and come back, get through Jefferson and kill Rumple before she could find him. Under the worst of circumstances Belle might have to watch. Or he would have to watch her die instead.

She shook the thoughts away, banishing them to the cobwebs of her mind and tread into the woman’s bedroom, steps muffled on the long floral rug that wound down the hall.

Like most of the other rooms it was green, but unlike the rest of the house, the damage was clear here. Scrapes along the walls, the heavy wooden bedframe drooped and broken, dresser drawers strewn and crooked in the frame.

“Rumple?”

Silence. Utter, quiet silence that bounce off the carpets and closed windows, the cold of the day holding the house in a vice to keep it from creaking or groaning unless more heat was applied to it.

A book, a diary, Belle soon realized, rested on the floor beside the bed, and it was just as strained and unhinged as the rest of the room seemed to be.

It was open, the entry showing dated a few days prior.

_Father,_

_I have him now. He’s mine and I’m not letting him get away this time. He’s going to be mine forever. Even if he is ungrateful for all that I’ve done, even if he is still begging to go home instead of embracing this new life I’ve given him I’m going to make him see. And if he doesn’t, I’ll beat it into him._

_-Your  Wicked Daughter_

Belle shuddered, face twisted in distaste just looking at the page. She flipped through the book, panic escalating in her when she came across pages of his name smeared in red, in blood. Another page made dark with the black of her pen detailing how Zelena planned to rip her apart, what she dreamed of being able to do to her one day.

_aND iF I GET THE CHANCE I’ll mAKE hEr PAThETic RUMpLE waTCH!_

The handwriting was ugly and harsh, pictures given on other pages so crudely drawn, clearly made in rage and Belle started to shake, tears leaking down her face. Entry after entry of what she wanted to do to Rumple, what she dreamed, what her fantasies were during her highs, how much better they were on his blood-

She threw the book across the room with a shout, gasping and running from the room. “Rumple!”

Every bedroom and closet were turned out, the bathtub, the linen closet, the attic, even the neglected root cellar was searched thoroughly, but he wasn’t there. Not even a trace of him beyond what was written in that heinous book could be found in the small home.

She burst back out onto the porch, shaking her head and looking at Jefferson. “He’s not here!” She cried, breath fast and panicked. “I don’t know where she would have put him but he isn’t in the house. I don’t think he ever was!”

“Okay, okay, relax, we’ve got time,” he assured, but outwardly worried. He stepped further away from the house,  looking around the property for any sort of hiding place. His ears strained to hear any sounds beyond Belle’s frantic heartbeat but that proved difficult.

“This is a farm, right?” He asked, eyes scanning the darkness. “So there’s probably a barn, or stables or something like that.”

She nodded, shaking with fear and the cold sweat that crept down her back, trying to see in this darkness but her humanity would only allow her so much.

“Or a storm cellar.” She breathed, her eyes growing, resting on a structure in the distance. “Jefferson, the storm cellar!”

Belle had already started running toward it when he turned, racing there and kneeling in front of the door first.

He scanned it quickly, making sure the door or any piece of the entrance was rigged to trigger any alarms, touching the padlock to rip it open. He dropped it when it burned him, hissing.

Belle stuttered to a halt on her tall shoes, out of breath and still waiting, still anticipating, still cringing with it.

“Can I see your glove?” He asked, holding his hand out but keeping his eyes on the door.

Belle gave it over immediately, her heart lodged in her throat and beating much too fast.

Jefferson folded the glove around the silver and tore the lock open with a hard jerk and opened the heavy door.

“I’ll be right out here listening if you need me,” he assured, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were on the black cellar below.

She gave a haphazard nod and started descending. Almost. Almost…

~*~

Though he didn’t need to breathe, having his arms above his head like this, stretched too far, was horribly painful. With the gag in his mouth his breaths were short and labored, if unneeded, muscles pulled taut in wrong places, sharp pains shooting through his torso and echoing in his head.

He twitched and jerked in pain, quiet whimpers leaving his throat simply because nothing louder would come. His leg throbbed in agony where the shears were stuck, the habitual beating of his heart forcing more of his blood out that wetted the ruined mattress.

He would rather be dead than live another moment like this. Naked and bled like a stuck pig, stretched out like a display, silenced and collared like a well trained beast. Worthless and horrible, only good for what Zelena wanted and nothing else.

Comforts were a gift, even if it was the simplest thing like slack on his tattered wrists, he understood that now. He deserved nothing close to kindness, nothing resembling pity or mercy. He deserved precisely what he was given and he would take it, rotted blood, starvation, beatings, rape, all of it, without a fuss.

Even if the idea of all of it made him so afraid he felt sick.

The door opened and he closed his eyes, whimpering in horrible anticipation of whatever she might do to him. He had his apology ready, his sorrys and pleases that she always said were so pretty so maybe her good favor would help him. Just a little.

But the steps were strange. Not hers, something else. The smell wasn’t right either, no, this was too sweet. Too soft and pure, untainted by vampire blood, by him, to be Zelena.

He kept his eyes closed, unsure if he was asleep and dreaming or awake and hallucinating but…

“Rumple?”

Oh, it had to be a dream. It just had to.

Belle would not be here if it weren’t a dream.

~*~

It reeked of blood.

That’s all she could smell walking down those stairs was old, heavy blood clinging to everything, and it was so dark. But she heard something, heard someone breathing. A stiff, rattling sound so quick and afraid.

“Rumple?”

She felt for a light, a string brushing against her face and she pulled, bathing the place in light.

A horrified sob left her throat.

Battered, slicked in fearful sweat, stained with blood and bound to a rusted cot, was her vampire. His hair was dirty and billowed around his head, his arms too high above his head and a collar- Oh dear god, she put a collar on him.

His eyes were shut tight, his bloody tears seeping from closed lids and he was so scared.

She ran to him, ripping the door of the cage open and going to his side, tearing off her gloves to properly touch his face. “Rumple? Rumple, shh, shh, it’s me. It’s me, it’s okay!” She promised, easing the cloth from his mouth, watching his fangs come out in his fear. “Shh, shh, I’m not going to hurt you, please.”

“Not real!” He hissed in a broken voice. “Not...No.” He was trembling, almost completely naked and she swallowed bile that rose to the back of her throat.

“No, I am. I am real Rumple, look.” She carefully cradled his face in her small hands and he sobbed once.

“Belle, please,” he begged. She frowned and shook her head.

“Please what, Rumple?” She urged.

“Don’t...don’t lie.”

“I won’t lie to you, Rumple, I will never, ever lie to you. Please, look at me. Please? I can get you out of here, I’m going to take you home! But you have to look at me first, you have to trust me. Please.” She urged, crying and unsure where to even begin to help him. She looked down toward the other end and saw the shears, the same she’d seen in his shop, buried in his bad leg.

“Oh god, Rumple what has she done to you?”

He opened his eyes, his lips shaking, breath hiccupping. “I…” He didn’t know how to answer her.

She smiled at him through her own tears, and he forgot that he was supposed to answer anything. Her eyes were so blue…

Belle brushed her fingers along his cheek, bent close to him, swallowing the sobs forcing their way up from her agonized heart. “There you are,” she whispered. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“You’re here,” he whispered. She was so clear, her warmth striking against his frigid cheek, not diluted like her imagined self. And she put weight on the bed, she took up space, she… She was real.

She nodded and he broke down, falling back and trying to breathe as he cried and she hastily started to untie his hands. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay, Rumple, I’m here,” she promised. “I’m, I’m going to get you out of here. I’m going to take you home and take care of you. And she’ll never get you again-”

“Belle, she’ll be back!” He whispered, suddenly frantic and whimpering when his hands were lowered with such care. “She- You’ve no idea what she’ll do to you. She told me! She told me everything she’d do, you can’t-”

“Shh…” She soothed. “I’m not going anywhere. Jefferson’s outside in case she comes and we are going to take you home.” She kissed his forehead, gently wiping his tears away with a cloth from her bag.

The collar peeled from his throat with some work with a bobby pin and he coughed, taking comfortable breaths and touching the wound to be sure it was really gone. The echo of it lingered and his skin crawled with the idea.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, shh…” She soothed, moving to slip the ruined tatters that were once his shirt off.

“N-no,” he begged. “Leave it, please? I-I have nothing else, she shredded the rest don’t, don’t take this. I’m not- I need it.”

“Okay,” she nodded, trying to smooth the pain from his face, to take it away. She couldn’t stand to see him so agonized. “Okay, I’ll leave it, it’s alright.”

Belle smoothed his hair back and whispered sweet things, trying to help without hurting him too much.

He wasn’t healing. Starved for so long he couldn’t heal himself and Belle was crying again, knowing she had to take the shears out.

“Belle,” he whispered, terrified and staring at her.

“Shh, I don’t want to hurt you,” she assured. “But I have to get them out, Rumple, I can’t leave those there while they burn through your skin. Bite on this, here.” she folded the rag she’d wiped his tears with and offered it to his lips. He obliged immediately, soothed by the tenderness she used to place it in his lips.

The shears were ripped from his permanently damaged flesh as carefully as Belle could manage, and she sobbed out apologies as she did. Hard as she tried to be gentle she knew it struck a deeper nerve than what was under the scar tissue that it had been damaged again.

Silver clinked against the ground as she let them go, blood on her hands.

Rumple dissolved, limp against the bed and crying brokenly while Belle took the rag from his mouth. He was so weak, exhausted and fragile in every way. The brand was torn open, his wrists and ankles burned and his flesh horribly marred from it, the skin of his groin was inflamed and surrounded in deep scratches. Belle couldn’t deny what happened and more tears sprang into her eyes.

She could feel how he loathed himself, the shame that beat from his body and his heart and she gathered him in her arms to shield him from that.

“N-no, no, I’m disgusting, Belle, you don’t have to touch me. I’m- She- I didn’t want to, Belle, she made me,” he pleaded. The fear that rattled his voice, the wavering plea and pain made him look so small, so young. She thumbed under those big brown eyes and pressed her forehead to his, shushing him again.

“You aren’t,” she promised. “You aren’t, Rumple, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”

He’d never get out of here like this. He could barely move and he was lost in his mind, where it was a little safer, trying to cover himself and shy away. She took off her coat, soothing him with assurances that she was warm enough when he protested, and wrapped it around him, cradling him close to her.

He was in too much pain to think, too starved to move and without Jefferson physically picking him up and carrying him he’d never get out of here like this, and she didn’t want to shame him more.

She kissed his temple and sat him up, baring her neck and pulling him closer. “You need to feed on me, Rumple.”

“No,” he grunted, turning his face away. “N-no, I could go into a frenzy. I-I might not be able to stop myself, Belle, I could hurt you.”

Her pulse was thundering in his ears, the sweet smell of his most treasured delicacy lingering just beneath and he longed to taste her, just to burst with her love and her warmth if she still had it for him. His heart, bruised black as it was, could only take so much disappointment, however.

“Jefferson’s outside,” she nodded, cupping his face and pressing soft kisses along his cheeks, which he chased and melted into, greedy for them. “He’ll know if something’s wrong, please. Please, just eat.”

Holding the back of his head she guided his lips to her throat. He rested there a moment, hesitating, shaking, so scared. But this was a promise of warm, fresh blood that wasn’t clotted and empty, blood that would help, Belle’s sweet gift to him.

He cautiously pierced her skin, felt the delicate velvet roll over his lips and down his throat and he sank in deeper. He drained her by the mouthful, closing his eyes just to feel.

Belle watched his wounds close, watched the shaking subside even as she felt colder and tired, she smiled. Less pain. Less horrific agony he had to endure.

However if he didn’t stop she’d black out.

She patted his hair. “Rumple, that’s enough,” she breathed, her eyes growing when nothing changed in his demeanor. She pushed on his shoulders a little, pushing him away. “Rumple, let go!”

The sharp spike of fear that washed over her altered her scent and her taste, and it was enough to make him alert. He let go, fangs retracting and he shrunk away in fear of punishment. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Shh, it’s alright. You stopped, Rumple, you didn’t hurt me. It’s alright,” she promised, smoothing his hair back in gentle fingers.

He looked up at her, lips stained with her blood, and broke down against her chest. “Belle, please. Please, don’t leave.”

“Leave?” Belle frowned, shaking her head. “Rumple, I’m going to take you home.”

“Home?” He breathed, as if the very notion of the place was ridiculous and far-fetched.

“Of course.” Her voice was soft, her smile tender and warm if not pained. Tears rose in them as she spoke. “I’m going to take you home. And we’ll get you cleaned up and get you fed and dressed, and you can get some rest. I’ll be right there with you, I promise. I won’t leave your side.”

“But, but why?” He whispered, hope blooming in his dark eyes, but it was hesitant.

She gently pressed their foreheads together, arms wrapped tightly around his trembling body, looking into his unsure, broken eyes. She smiled just a little and said words Rumplestiltskin hadn’t believed since the light and life abandoned his mother’s eyes. “I love you.”

He blinked up at her, shaking his head a little. “You can’t.”

“But I do,” she breathed, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I wanted to tell you before. At...at our date that night, I was going to say I did.”  

He shook his head a little, eyes disbelieving, lips quivering.  “No one could ever, ever love me.”

“Shh…” She cupped his cheek, kissing him very gently. “I love you.” He whimpered. “I love you, I love you, I love you…” She punctuated her words with a soft kiss to his face, gently wiping away tears.

He succumbed to her, ceasing to protest and simply accepted her love, accepted her touches and gave into her affections. “I love you too.” He clung to her, not letting her go as she helped him limp up the stairs, where he practically fell into Jefferson.

“God, you look like hell,” the hatter grinned, his voice gentle.

The Dark One managed a small laugh, leaning back against Belle and closing his eyes.

Home. He was finally, finally going home.

~*~

Singing to herself, a fresh drop of blood on her tongue, Zelena danced down the stairs of the cellar, chuckling. “Now, now, little pet, are you going to be good? Going to allow me my happiness that you stole? Wretched thing…”

She frowned, her hand twining in the string. “You answer me right now, you disgusting little imp!” She shrieked, but silence met her. Too much silence.

She turned on the light, her pupils narrowing to pinpoints, ands she screamed.

Shrieking and clawing at her own face she tore the cage apart, throwing things and pounding her fists on her thighs.

But Rumplestiltskin was safe from her tantrums, and the child was left to her fit.

 


	15. Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though he may be safe, Rumplestiltskin's recovery is far from over; Jefferson and Killian have a conversation.

How he trembled. He shook so much from the residual fear, the adrenaline finally settling in his bones and leaving him with the utter exhaustion that came with the horrific tortures endured. The water in the tub was pink with blood Belle had already washed from his skin, and through half-lidded eyes he watched the colors swirl around, stared at the scars on his wrists and ankles, at the ragged brand on his hip, the twisted, gnarled scar on his ankle.

He stared at the hideous creature who would forever look a step above emaciated, a hideous pile of bones with patches that made him all the uglier, with gray in his hair and lines set in his face. He would forever hold the body and face of the pathetic spinner he once was. He would forever look weak.

The echo of the collar cinched around his throat and it was hard to breathe. He pursed his shaking lips, trying to focus on the gentle fingers so lovingly washing his hair and not the little hisses and whispers in his head, or the swimming visions of _her_ trying to confuse his reality.

This was his bathroom, his bathtub, his home, and Belle was touching him right now. No one else, just Belle. He was sure that Belle might be the only one allowed to put her hands on him for the rest of his life, if he could help it.

A shudder worked through him with the mere idea of a stranger’s hands or even his progeny coming anywhere near him, and Belle’s warm lips were pressed to his forehead.

“Shh, I’m here,” she said softly. “I’m here, it’s alright.” He blinked up at her, to see her. Those kind eyes were still so warm to him, her hands still tender, her words kind and loving. He could hardly believe after she’d seen him in the cage the way she had that she would want anything to do with him.

She insisted she loved him, she wouldn’t leave him, that what Zelena had done wasn’t his fault, and that he was safe. She promised him all of this with more sincerity than he’d experienced in decades, if not longer.

Rumplestiltskin may not have believed her, but he wouldn’t turn away such sweet comfort when he was so starved for it. He closed his eyes again, trying not to look at himself.

Belle didn’t see what Rumple saw.

She didn’t see a mangled, patchwork ragdoll with a sharp set of teeth.

Belle saw strength in a lean body that existed before his vampirism. She saw the opaque brandy of his eyes surrounded in light lashes that reflected the light back, that turned black as the new moon when he was angry and soft as warm earth when he smiled at her.

She saw the streaks of gray in his hair that rounded his curls, but in the sun there were so many colors with it. Golds and browns, the deepest of reds and glittering silver woven into the silk she couldn’t help weave her fingers through.

Belle saw the brand on his hip as a testament to what he had suffered before his vampirism, not cowardice. Wanting to be a present father was not cowardice. Doing what was needed to protect his family and keep them safe was not cowardice. Branding a man to make it known to all that somehow because of his faithfulness to family this man was less than them was cowardice.

Knowing the pain that lied in that wound, such undeserved agony and ingrained insecurity engraved in him forever and tearing it open simply to elicit pain, was cowardice.

The scars from the silver would heal with his next feeding. As for the injury to his ankle, the source of his shame, one of the largest reasons he shied from her when they were intimate together, a piece of himself he loathed to see.

But it was beautiful. Just as he was beautiful, just as every inch of him was beautiful.

Belle rinsed the soap from his hair, fingertips tracing the lines in his forehead, the scar on his lip, the creases around his eyes, and her caresses were loving. He was the most breathtaking man she had ever seen, and she couldn’t express that to him enough.

She lowered her lips to his forehead again.

With the water over his ears he could hear nothing but Belle’s heartbeat. A distant echo, like a drum played low, the sound bouncing through the porcelain. It was soothing, her life.

His breath caught when she touched the hated lines of his face, age he could never be rid of. Such sweet caresses to his vile, twisted form that reached right into his heart and cradled it, soothed it’s bruises and lit some of the shadows buried within.

He wondered, distantly, if she had any idea what kind of impact she had on him. Any idea at all. The kiss brought tears to his eyes and he closed them again.

The water may not be warm enough to wash away the acidic bile the witch left embedded in his skin, and he may never feel clean of her, but perhaps Belle would be enough to help him through this. If he let her.

He simply had to let her.

“There,” she said, guiding him back up and smiling at him.

She looked so tired. The bags under her eyes were dark with exhaustion. Her face was puffy from crying, pale and slowly regaining light again with him close. She needed to rest as much as he did. She helped him to his knees and wrapped a towel around his shoulders, letting his head rest against her breast while she dried his hair.

Sweet nothings were said into his ear from silken lips, the warmth of her embrace the sweetest of kindling to the dying fire in his chest. He looked up at her again, his lips parting just a little when she ran her thumb over them, looking up at her with those soft eyes.

She wished with everything she had that one kiss could take it all away. That the curse of this woman would be gone in one sure kiss to his shaking lips and then those tears would fade. The pain in his features, the way he shrunk into himself as if to hide, as if he needed another shield other  than her to keep him safe, it broke her heart.

Belle helped him stand, being sure the towel covered him. She caught him when his leg buckled beneath him once he tried to step onto the tile and smiled at him.

“Now, this is no time to go falling for me,” she whispered, brushing her nose against his. He laughed his quiet, breathy sound and she smiled back, pressing her forehead to his. “I love you.” He closed his eyes. “I love you, Rumple.” He gripped her tighter and gave a soft cry.

She got him dressed, got him away from that tattered bit of shirt that had been his defining trait as something other than animal, and into bed.

He curled against her while she pressed soft kisses to his face.

“Jefferson’s outside,” she said softly. “He’s staying in the room down the hall when the sun comes up, and Graham’s going to take over for half the day, and Ruby’s going to take the last.”

He nodded gratefully, lips pursed. “I’m not leaving you for anything,” she assured. “Not one thing, alright?” Another nod. “Rumple?” She whispered, gently lifting his chin. “It’s alright now. You’re safe.”

“This doesn’t feel real,” he admitted, eyes down. “This feels like I’m going to wake up at any moment and it’s all a lie. It can’t be real.” He sniffled, helpless and small. “It, it feels too nice to be real, I can’t really be here.” He gestured out, shaking his head. “One of these times I’m going to open my eyes and you’ll be gone and, and she’ll-”

He shuddered and broke off, shaking his head again.

“Shh, no, no, Rumple, hey.” She lifted his face in her caring hand. “I’m real. You’re awake. You’re here, at home with me and you’re never going back to that woman, not ever.” She held him, pressing her face into his hair and rocking him a little while he calmed down.

“I think you need to feed again,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “Give me just a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He reluctantly let her go, looking around the room a moment in his tired, malnourished state. His eyes rested on his cane, which was resting against the nightstand closest to him, the present he intended for Belle that night resting on top beside the book he’d been reading. The ribbon hadn’t been disturbed; she hadn’t opened it.

He hugged himself, touched, and still trying hard to stay right here in the present and not slip between worlds again.

Belle came back as she promised, a warm cup in her hands that she pressed into his. “It’s from blood bags, so it’s not the best. But it’s fresh,” she whispered, offering him a small smile.

He took it graciously, grateful for her steadying hands. He drained it quickly. It wasn’t the best, but it was human, it was warm and slaked his thirst enough to heal the scars from the silver and dull the throbbing in his head to a quiet ache. He sighed, relieved, his exhaustion settling over him hard now that the sharpness of pain wasn’t keeping him awake.

Belle watched it happen and drew him into her arms again, guiding him to lie down. He tensed, stopping her.

“Wait, wait,” he whispered, closing his eyes briefly. “Could...could you leave the light on?”

He felt so humiliated asking that of her. He wasn’t a child, he shouldn’t be afraid of the dark and she would laugh in his face for being so-

“Of course.” Her voice was empathetic and understanding. The lamp on the dresser clicked on and she got back into bed without any resentment, any scoffing any hint of what he expected from others.

She pulled the blanket over his shoulders and hugged him close. “Rest.” Her whisper was so soft and brushed against his ear with her breath, making him shiver with the goosebumps that followed. He clung to her, his head on her chest, surrounded in her.

The gentle smell of her skin and her clothes, the warmth of her hair, the rose of her shampoo and the underlying scent of her blood that only something like him could detect. Just as sweet as she was, delicate and meant to be cherished. Like a drop from the stamen of a honeysuckle.

Belle kept her eyes open, despite her fatigue, intent on making sure he was asleep first. He needed it far more than she did. His muscles needed to unwind and breathe, his chest needed to unclench, his teeth could stop grinding and that remembered feeling of that collar needed to fade. He desperately needed to get his rest.

A creak in the floorboards downstairs made him jerk. The little ticks and groans of the old house all put him on edge one by one until he was wide awake and shaking. Each noise of the constantly settling staircase was her, coming up to take him back there.

She would drag him away, slit Belle’s throat and shove his face in her blood while she died and shriek at him to drink her instead of help her. She would call it a crime of passion and rape him in their bed before Belle’s corpse had grown cold.

He whimpered and hid his face, the wind outside making him cover his ears.

_You think you can get away from me so easy? What a naughty thing you are, pet. I really shall have to punish you for thinking so freely. Disgusting little imp thinks a new change of clothes and a bath will get rid of me, how sweet. You want to be pretty for the little bitch but not me? After I gave you everything?! Oh you ungrateful worthless beast I’ll-_

“No, no, no,” he whimpered, speaking into Belle’s chest. “I’ll be good, I’ll be good, please!”

Belle watched his tears stain her skin and she sat up, shaking her head and calling his name. “Rumple! Rumple, hey, look at me!” She urged, forcing him. “Shh, you don’t have to be good! You don’t have to be anything, shh...shh, it’s just me. It’s just me.”

“Please,” he whispered, touching Belle’s cheek. Was it really her? Could it really be her, could he really be free-? No. Never free. He would never be free from the witch and her laugh and her voice and her hands and that cage. “Please, Belle, I’m afraid.”

“Shh, hey, hey,” she urged, wiping the blood away with a tissue from beside the bed. “Don’t be scared.” She set it down and cupped the back of his head and rocking him, holding him close. “You’re home. You’re home, no one’s going to hurt you. Stay here with me, Rumple, don’t let her pull you back there. You’re with me. With Belle, in your bed, in my arms where nothing can touch you.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she listened to his distress. He needed sleep so badly and still that horrid woman wouldn’t let him.

It took some time, but he settled again, the quiet of the house settling over them again. It struck her then that that was too much for him to have to bear. “Okay,” she whispered, petting his hair. “Once upon a time a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind…”

Rumple blinked up at her, listening intently to the story she told him. A beauty and a beast who was unloved and unsure if he was capable of love himself. Such a familiar story.

He fell asleep halfway through but Belle kept talking, watching him smile minutely, the story following him into his dreams, when she got to their happy ending.

She was mumbling, slurring her words but still smiling while she drifted off into sleep herself. “...And they lived hap’ly ever af’er,” she sighed, eyes closing entirely and she pressed her cheek against the top of his head. “Jus’ like us, R’mple. Jus’ like us.”

~*~

Jefferson stood outside the not-so-humble home of his Majesty Mr. Gold, leaning against the porch and whistling, nursing the thermos of blood Belle had so graciously gifted to him while he stood guard. He could do this inside, of course, but it felt odd being in there while Belle took care of him.

It was such a private, intimate thing and he didn’t want to intrude on it. Rumplestiltskin’s safety was near the top of his list of priorities, as he owed the vampire king so much and he cared for him a great deal, and therefore standing outside to make the wicked witch of the obsessed didn’t come around trying to harm him again.

The Authority had been notified of his safe return with no grounds for war needing to be started on both sides, and from what Jefferson gathered Rumple’s progeny knew precisely where he was and hadn’t bothered to even try and check on him.

Not that he was letting anyone in that house tonight. Belle said no one gets in but him, and that meant no one but him.

So when the black Chrysler and all it’s oversized glory sailed into the driveway, he smirked. Killian’s boat of a car, showy, loud and some treasured thing with a little captain’s wheel hanging from the mirror, license plate reading “JLY RGR” and the whole thing was so pretentious he couldn’t help but feel a bit nauseous.

“Sorry, sweetie, visiting hours are over,” he smirked, watching Killian stalk up to him in his leathered bluster.

“The bloody hell are you doing here?” He spat, glaring at him. “Where’s the Crocodile? Why didn’t he go talk to the Authority himself?

“Mustn’t tell tales out of school, pirate,” Jefferson giggled, shaking his head.

“Tell me what the hell you’re doing here then!”

“What our king asked me to,” he said simply. “Keep out the riff-raff.” Jefferson giggled and cocked his head. “Which are you, honey? Riff or raff?”

“I’m here to kick your arse if you don’t get out of my way, hatter,” he spat, immediately getting the other vampire’s face. His fangs bared and Jefferson’s followed.

“Oh no, that’s not going to happen. See, you’ll go up there and antagonize him like you always do, and likely threaten Belle -again, you sadistic thing- which will only upset him and cause him to use more energy than he can spare on your useless little hide. So scurry off,” he said, walking the both of them backward, shoulder checking him to get him further away.

“Still his plaything, are you?” Killian growled, smirking at him. Jefferson only grinned.

“Why? Jealous?”

Killian sneered in disgust and shoved Jefferson with more than necessary strength, knocking him squarely against the side of the house.

“What happened to him? Who had him?” He demanded. Jefferson mimed zipping his lips and tossing a key away.

Killian growled and rushing the steps faster than humans could move. Not faster than Jefferson, however, who barred the door.

“I don’t want to have to fight you, pirate,” he said, his jaw clenched, voice dangerously soft. “But I will.”

“You’re centuries younger than me, hatter, you won’t win this fight,” Killian scoffed.

“Mm, and you just adore picking fights that only you can win, don’t you?” He asked, wrinkling his nose as if that were an endearing thing about him. Killian’s eyes flashed.

“Don’t make me do something regrettable to you.”

“Oh, I could say the same,” he laughed, shoving him back with both hands propelling into his chest. “You think I get called mad because of my incredible fashion sense, Killy Willy?”

“Why are you even here, he’s done with you! He doesn’t want to play with you anymore, he’s found a new toy, why don’t you fuck off?!” He snarled, attempts feeble. Jefferson rushed him, pinning Killian against his car.

“Your maker and I played very well together. See, he’s such an attentive playmate and he does so love pretty boys like me and won’t touch bitter things like you. Does that upset you?” He repeated, and Killian jerked at the accusation.

“I’m not a desperate freak like you- Just tell me what the hell’s going on!” He snarled.

“Ah! No, bad pirate, stay,” he snickered. “See, he and I are what’s called ‘friends’ something you would have if you weren’t such a pouty brat. But you know what? Fine. Go right on in. Go say hi to your maker.” He pushed off of him and moved back to his spot at the porch.

Killian straightened his jacket and hesitated before walking toward the house.

“That is, of course, unless you can’t go in.”

Killian stopped, his cheek twitching in hate. Jefferson chuckled.

“See, I was ninety six point four percent sure that his highness had banned you and your sisters from coming into his house,” he grinned. “Can’t believe he doesn’t trust you that much, oh, that’s beautiful. I knew you were asking me all that for a reason. How cute.”

“I ought to rip you apart on principle,” Killian threatened, turning and rushing him again. Jefferson laughed.

“Go ahead, hit-”

Killian rammed his fist against his jaw in a loud, cracking punch and Jefferson continued laughing.

“Oh! Oh, that’s perfect, but see, you should probably get going…” He sang, looking toward the horizon as if it were an inside joke. Sunrise.

Killian sneered and dropped his hands from Jefferson’s lapels. “I’m far from through with you,” he warned, shoving him away and moving to get into his car.

“Ooh, I do like it rough,” he teased, watching him scowl deeper and speed off toward a safe place to sleep.

The pirate cursed the rising sun and his weakness to it, angrier still that he didn’t know why the Crocodile was hiding, and that it hurt him on a deep, instinctive level that he couldn’t help.

He slammed his hands into the steering wheel several times, shouting and cursing that damned imp for doing this to him.

He sped up, making it to his apartment just as the sun’s rays rose above the buildings, and spent the day wrestling dreams of events passed, what brought him to this. What the Crocodile’s revenge had brought him to.

 


	16. Milah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin and Killian's relationships with Milah were vastly different from one another.

“Rumplestiltskin, get over here and help me with these!”

The young man jerked from his daze, tearing his eyes from where he’d anxiously been staring and stood to take the rugs one of the spinsters was carrying and quickly hung them over the line so they could be seen by those passing through the market.

A few of them were his, a bit more intricately woven with the dexterity and youthfulness of his hands in comparison, and there were other garments as well.

“There now, should have those sold in no time, eh?”

He smiled between the two women, quiet as he usually was and seated himself behind the loom again. His gaze drifted down the lane once more, to the dark-haired milkmaid that had yet to notice what he’d left her. Either that or she’d chosen to ignore it entirely and he should give up his foolish, though anonymous, endeavors to court her.

Milah was her name. And try as he might the young spinner couldn’t get her out of his head.

He peered at her several times, and it didn’t go unnoticed by his caretakers, who smiled to each other and let the affection play out as it would.

Rumple smiled victoriously when she found it; a wreath of flowers he’d wound around one of the milk jugs with the same wildflowers he’d been using every week since he’d first set eyes on her.

She looked around, beaming, and Rumplestiltskin realized too late he hadn’t concealed himself. Her eyes rested on him and he flushed to his ears, realizing his mistake, and ducked back behind the loom, weaving furiously.

The spinsters chuckled endearingly and he ignored them.

The girl approached him, touching the flowers idly and tried to get a better look at the young man she’d caught staring. Rumplestiltskin was his name, the son of a coward with a lovely smile and a gentle way about him, and a certain fierceness if pushed too hard. Often she’d wanted to speak to him but never had a reason.

Until she’d discovered her mysterious florist’s identity.

Milah peered through the threads of the loom, trying to catch his attention and finally locked her gaze with his.

His shy brown eyes were all that were visible above the cloth he’d already woven, the barest hint of pink on the tops of his cheeks where he’d flushed, and she was blushing herself. She smiled widely at him.

“Is this from you?” She asked, showing him the wreath. He looked away nervously and slowly, after a long moment, nodded. Milah grinned wider. “They’re lovely. Have you...been leaving me flowers all this time?” He nodded again. “Are you going to talk to me? I know you aren’t mute.” She goaded, giggling.

He laughed a little, looking back into her light eyes, clearing his throat. “I, I wasn’t sure...what to say to you, what I could say so, so I- I thought you might like- Most girls like flowers, don’t they? Not, not that you’re most girls, but I- I’m sorry.” He looked away again, cursing himself and his lacking ability to speak to her.

“See, I am most girls,” she nodded, coming around the loom to look at him properly. “And, truly, I did hope that they might be from you.”

He perked up, standing to look at her more surely. “You, you did?” He blinked, a bit disbelieving. She nodded, just as shy as he was. “Would-would you, perhaps, like...like to see each other sometime? Not, not at the market?”

Milah nodded, looking into his warm, brightly innocent eyes again. “I’d like that very much.”

He was to call on her tomorrow, and he had no idea what they were to do together but talk, but he was sure to figure something out. He sighed and sat back down, absolutely elated. He felt so light and happy, his warm heart so open and overflowing with care.

“I told you she liked him,” one of the spinsters remarked, nudging her sister.

“Oh, alright, alright, you did, here.” She pressed a coin into her smug sister’s hand and gave a warm smile to Rumple, who hadn’t smiled so much since he’d come to stay with them.

~*~

“You know, I’ll bet if you went and asked they’d let you play.”

The woman turned, holding her pregnant stomach and blinking up at him. He smiled at her, caught by the radiance in her eyes and...something about her spirit that reminded him of the reckless chaos he so often craved.

“Me? Oh, no. No, there’s no possible way they would. I mean look at me,” She chuckled, idly patting her stomach.

Killian shook his head, ignoring the idea of a child and likely a husband that had claimed this woman. “What’s so wrong with that? There a law in this village that says women with child aren’t allowed to gamble?”

“I think it’s at least frowned upon most places for women to do anything of the kind, with child or no,” she giggled. He laughed with her, shaking his head.

“Come now, love, where’s your sense of adventure?” He goaded. She scoffed.

“In my girlhood where it belongs,” she said firmly. “Not sure that’s something you’d understand, pirate.”

He feigned offense, pressing a hand to his chest. “Such an accusation! Are you really so presumptuous you’ll call me pirate without even knowing my name?”

“I know the sailors that come through these ports and you are no sailor. Not with that coat,” she teased, but her eyes were warm. “What is your name?”

“Killian Jones,” he smiled, taking her hand and kissing it as he bowed. “Captain Killian Jones.”

“Oh, so a pirate captain then,” she chuckled.

“Yes,” he said, straightening his collar and holding up his chin. “An honor among thieves. Well, there’s honor in the position at least. Most of the time.” He grinned when she smiled again. “What about you, love, what’s your name?” The woman pointedly looked away, still smiling.

“Oh, I see, then. Won’t return the courtesy, well. And you call me pirate.” He turned her chin with a careful finger. “I’ll tell you what: you and I play,” he nodded toward the rest of his crew, the people she’d been watching, “and if I win, you tell me your name.”

“And if I win?” She challenged.

He cocked his brow and grinned wider. “I never lose.”

In twenty minutes, he knew her name.

Milah.

“I really should get home,” she said, looking toward the quickly darkening window. He quickly grabbed her hand.

“When can I see you again?” He asked in earnest. She hesitated, shaking her head.

“Killian, I’m married,” she said quietly.

“Oh? Where’s your husband then? Why hasn’t he come looking for you?” He demanded, refusing to let her go without an answer.

“He’s at the front. Of the Ogres war,” she said quietly, still torn between staying and leaving.

“So I can see you again,” he grinned. She shook her head.

“He’s fighting, he’s not dead.”

“From what I’ve heard of this war, I’ve a pretty good chance.”

Milah shook her head again, but a smile crept over her features. He was rough, brutish and calloused from his travels and his profession. The roughness of his hands was similar to Rumple’s but for entirely different reasons. She swallowed and tried to cover the smile.

“Goodnight, Captain.” And she was gone.

But the pirate wasn’t about to let her get away.

~*~

“I know, I know, son, shh…”

Baelfire wailed and wriggled in his father’s arms, his little body wracked with fever and aches, a rough cough coming between cries.

He’d sent Milah for the doctor hours ago, to at least get some help for their son. Why hadn’t she come back?

He rocked Baelfire carefully, his own body plagued with the same malady but his care was the last on his mind.

Baelfire cried helplessly, uncomfortable no matter what he did, either too hot or too cold, congestion making his breath wheeze, his little voice breaking and raw from his tears, and his father could hardly do anything to help.

He walked around the small house, bouncing him, holding him, singing to him and attempting several times to make him smile. Baelfire only wailed and flailed his limbs.

Rumplestiltskin was aware he needed to break Bae’s fever. Until that happened his son would be lost in torment and cry so much for so long he’d hurt himself. He’d wanted to wait and see what the doctor said but with night coming on so quickly he needed to do this before the more severe chill settled in the air and killed his son.

He placed the basin used for Bae’s baths near the fire while the baby writhed and screamed in his crib.

“I know, I know, Bae. It’s okay. It’s okay, Papa’s here. Shh…” He picked him up and smiled at him, kissing his heated forehead. “Shh, shh, I’m here. I’ve got you, son.”

The moment the water touched Bae he shrieked with newfound vigor, arched and kicked and fought to get away. Rumple knelt there with him, shushing him and gently pouring water over him.

It took awhile but Bae finally calmed, his little hands clinging to Rumple’s skin while he took rattling gasps for breath and continued to cough and whimper.

“There, there, see, that’s better, hm?” He offered, his head pounding from the heat in his own body, ankle screaming from his kneeling for so long but it didn’t matter. Baelfire had stopped crying and after awhile he even giggled.

Rumple had just taken him out of the water and wrapped him in a towel when Milah came in, a lingering smell of rum on her and he frowned. “Where were you?” He asked in a rough voice, quiet and timid as he dried Baelfire off, mindful of how sensitive fever can make the skin.

She frowned, peering at the child who was red faced and recovering from his tears. “I told you I was out. What did the doctor say?”

“I-I asked you to get the doctor-”

“You did no such thing!” She retorted. “I told you I was going out and the doctor’s just down the lane, why couldn’t you have gone?!”

Baelfire caught sight of his mother and reached for her, gurgling. “No, son, you’ll get Mum sick too,” he said gently, then looked back at his wife. “I can’t leave him here; it would take nearly half an hour there and back with my leg.”

She sneered at him on instinct, and he expected that, keeping his eyes down so he didn’t have to see the strength of her hate.

“Is he so sick he can’t go out?” She asked, reaching carefully to feel the babe’s forehead.

“I didn’t want to risk it.”

This was the most civil they’d been to each other since Baelfire was born, and the closest they’d stood since then as well. He turned and coughed into his arm, picking the baby up when he started to fuss again. “He’s fine now, I think. The fever’s broken. Keep his face cool and if he breathes in some steam it should clear up his chest.”

Milah picked the tub off the floor  and set it on the table, not looking at the pale, sickly creature she was forced to call husband as she did. “Good thing you paid attention to those witches,” she muttered. “Suppose you aren’t totally useless after all.”

That feeling in his gut, his shame and self-loathing, had abated at his helping his child, and it all came rushing back in a hard slam to his chest. He nearly buckled with it.

Baelfire squirmed and slumped against his papa’s chest, exhausted, cooing when he covered the back of his head with his hand. “No,” he said very quietly. “Suppose not.”

~*~

“I can’t believe him, I just can’t!” Milah spat, shaking her head. “Injuring himself, damning our son like he has, how dare he do such a thing! What am I supposed to do with, with that for a husband?”

“Shh…” Killian lifted her chin, shaking his head and looking at her closely. “You’re here to forget the little imp exists, aren’t you?” He goaded, running gentle fingertips along her cheek.

She did deserve better. She deserved a stronger man than the weakling she’d left at home, the self-crippled little man who ran away from a fight. Hiding behind the lie of protecting his child when he was saving his own skin. Useless spinster was better off dead, and he told her that.

“I know he is. I told him that too,” she grunted. He gave a satisfied little smile. “I hate, hate that I’m tied to him like this. I don’t love him.”

“I know,” he nodded, smoothing her hair back.

“You’re so different. Strong, brave, you’ll fight for what you want.”

He smirked at her, brushing his thumb along her jaw.  “A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

He’d never set eyes on her husband before, or her child, which made it all the easier to ignore that they existed, that they had any sort of thought or feeling and he could put all of his focus on Milah, where it wanted to be in the first place.

“Lashed to the town coward,” she spat. “Instead of being one of the honored widows I’m stuck with him. Did I tell you they branded him?”

He laughed. “Did they? Well, I suppose that’s fair. Taking the flesh he stole from them. Good for them.”

“He begged me for help. I never felt so sick, what people must think…”

“Oi.” He kissed her roughly, holding her face in a tight hand. “Damn what they think. As soon as I can figure out a way, I’ll get you out of here. I’ll sever that tie with your damned husband and you’ll never have to worry about him again.”

She smiled at him, and his heart swelled with it. “And you’ll take me to see the world?” She whispered.

“I’ll take you wherever you could possibly wish to go, darling,” he grinned. “Just name it.”

“You set sail tomorrow!” She lamented, clinging to him.

“Shh, I know. I know, but I’ll be back. You can always count on that, love. I will be back for you,” he swore, looking at her steadily. “ But for now...we should make the best of things, eh?”

She laughed and he took her into his arms. He was going to have her to himself, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to make that happen. It would take time, but he could wait.

He’d wait to keep the woman he loved.

~*~

He had no idea what he did to incite this sudden anger.

He’d been so careful around her, knowing her moods were out of sorts ever since he’d asked her home from the tavern and he tried to behave as she wished. Quiet, out of her direct sight and only speaking when Bae talked to him.

But even then, no matter what he did, no matter what he tried it was all so erratic. Yesterday when Baelfire had gone to sleep, before she went out, she threw a knife down on the table in front of him and hissed, “Just kill yourself.”

She didn’t mean it.

When she came home that night he hadn’t moved, and she put the knife away, paused close to him until he looked at her. She didn’t say anything, only looked from him to Baelfire and shook her head once.

Another night he’d been beaten and nearly robbed of all he had on the road. He’d saved the food, most of his money but he was utterly battered for some time.

Baelfire had run to him and hitched his arms around his neck swearing that he would keep him safe next time, that he should go with him and protect him.

Milah had scowled, disgust set deep in the lines of her face and shook her head at him. “If your father had any of your sense, Baelfire, he’d at least learn to fight back.”

He gave her a soft, pleading look. They’d agreed not to talk like that in front of him, to at least offer him the one courtesy of not being put down in front of their child. They didn’t fight in front of him either.

Which is why he should have seen this coming.

Baelfire was off playing after supper, allowed out until dark and then he’d come home to wash and get to bed.

That wasn’t for some time and he should have known, under the circumstances, that the smallest thing would have disturbed the uneasy calm between them.

One moment he was clearing the table and the next she was yelling at him, shoving him, tugging him around by his hair and kicked the walking stick out of his hands.

“What have I done? What did I do?!” He begged.

“You _lived,”_ she snarled, shoving him toward the wall. “You pathetic little nothing, you lived! Why couldn’t you just fight?! Why did you condemn me to this?!”

“Milah- Please, Bae-”

“Don’t talk to me about Baelfire!” She spat, slapping him hard across the face. He looked pointedly at the ground. “You’ve condemned him as well. With your shame lingering over him the rest of his life, what can he hope to be? You were supposed to be better than your father and look at you!” She shoved him into the wall, slapping him again, hard enough this time to cut his mouth and make him bleed. “Your cowardice is a sickness eating me alive, and I can’t stand it.”

“Milah-”

“I can’t! You make me sick. Hideous beast, I want nothing to do with you. If it weren’t...if it weren’t for Baelfire I would’ve left you a long time ago.”

He swallowed. “I know.”

“Why won’t you fight back?!” She demanded, striking him hard across the face. “Yell at me!” Again. “Make me stop!” Again. “Do _something!”_ Again. “Be a man!”

He caught her wrist when she tried again. His grip was light, careful. All he’d done was catch her wrist, nothing more. He didn’t want to hurt her and he never intended to. “Whether you want to think so or not, I am,” he whispered. “I’m just not the one you want me to be.”

Her rage ebbed and she looked at him, at the red welts on his face from her hand, the blood on his lips and…

He raised his eyes to her, those same eyes that caught her attention all those years ago. But the warmth was gone. The sweet shyness, the joy from simply looking at her, all gone. It had been replaced with pain, fear, regret and sorrow. She looked into his bloodshot gaze, anger turning to a bitter guilt.

She reached out, just a little, and brushed his hair out of his face. She stepped back, handing him a rag for the blood and gently pushed his crutch back into his hand.

Milah turned cold for her own sake and turned away from him, leaving the home just as their son came back in.

“Going out, Mama?” He asked sadly. She didn’t answer. She patted his hair and left.

Rumple set the rag aside and limped to a chair. That meant nothing, he knew that. Her love for him was dead, and perhaps it would be easier for him to stomach if he ceased loving her as well. But he didn’t. He never would. Perhaps...perhaps someday she would...change her mind.

“Papa?”

The little voice instantly brought a smile to his face whether he wanted it to be there or not. “Yes, son?” He smiled, looking down at his child’s sad eyes. “Oh, hey, Bae, come here. Come here, it’s alright.”

He lifted the child into his arms and hugged him, smoothing his hair back while he sniffled. “She doesn’t like me,” he whimpered.

“What?” He leaned back, looking at him. “Bae, no, son, that’s not true. That’s the farthest thing from the truth. Your mother loves you with all her heart.”

“Then why doesn’t she stay home?” He asked, blinking up at him.

“Sometimes she just needs a bit of time to herself. Like when you go for a walk in the field, hm? Just to get some time to yourself out of the house?” The boy nodded once. “You don’t do that because you don’t like us, do you?”

“No, I love you,” he said surely, hugging Rumple again.

He ignored the searing pain that jumped through his mouth when his son’s cheek pressed against his and held his child. “I love you too, son.”

~*~

He loved her so much. Hers was the face he couldn’t wait to see the moment he touched land again, the one he saw each time he closed his eyes when he was out to sea. He heard her voice in his sleep and he never in all his life felt more complete than when she was near.

He gave her the earrings he’d procured for her, held her and stayed with her most of the night in that tavern, gambling and drinking to their heart’s content. He gushed about his travels, watched her eagerly drink in what he said and hung on every word he spoke. She was his whole world, and she was respected for her position with him and he knew she liked that.

Far better to belong to a pirate captain than a crippled spinner.

He finally saw him.

He wasn’t as short as Milah said, but he was twice as pathetic. Waifish, soft spoken and weak. Dear gods, he was so sickeningly weak it was laughable. He looked the coward. Meek and unsure as he was, with his wavering voice and the pleas met with more laughter at the sheer absurdity of it.

This man was who Milah had bound herself to, and honestly Killian could not for the life of him fathom why. What made him a worthy husband? Certainly not his profession, his habits, his ethics. He had to have been this weak-willed when she married him.

Perhaps she hadn’t waited long enough for a better offer.

But her child came forward next. The quiet little bleat for his mother from a lamb-like voice came from behind the imp and Milah was gone almost immediately from him. Killian understood what truly held her back, then. Not this unworthy husband, but the boy.

He’d simply have to convince her to leave him too.

“The sea’s no life for a child,” he assured, taking her hands. “He wouldn’t be safe with us. Not with the kind of work I do. I don’t want to endanger him like that.”

“But you’re more than willing to endanger me?” She challenged. It was the following night, and they didn’t have much time before he had to leave again.

“You can make your own decisions about what you want your life to be. And I can keep you safe, but I don’t know about you and a child. Might be easier to off your husband however, should he come and try to get you.”

He watched her gaze get far and she looked away a moment, folding her lips. “Baelfire should stay,” she said quietly. “With him. He...needs someone.”

Killian frowned deeply, his brows knitting together. “You sound like you care for him, Milah.” She scoffed.

“As one cares for a mole,” she snickered. “It’s not care. It’s not love or affection, it… It’s mercy, maybe. And Baelfire won’t leave him. Not for anything.”

“Honorable boy you have,” he said. She nodded back.

“I...I don’t think I can tell him that I’m leaving him. Not to his face, I can’t do that,” she muttered, looking up at him. “Does that make me a coward too?”

“No,” he assured, shaking his head. “It’s mercy, like you said. I’ll think of something, should he come creeping around. Might look like a kidnapping and you never know. He might actually show some spine.”

“It doesn’t matter if he does,” she said firmly, pressing her hands to his chest. “I know what I want my life to be. And it’s not being some pathetic spinner’s wife.”

He grinned, love glowing in his eyes and he kissed her there behind their tavern, spinning her in his arms. “Tomorrow. At dawn. I’ll take you away then and we’ll be gone before tea.”

She laughed happily, touching his face and his lips, finally at ease with the man she deserved. Not the one she pitied. It would hurt her to leave her son, but it was for the best.

She could at least lie to herself about that.

~*~

His neck still stung where the blade had touched him, his child’s quaking form in his arms. He could not be soothed, and truly neither could he. His weakness, his disgusting and despicable cowardice had left this sweet child with no mother and a pathetic excuse for a father.

“I’m so sorry, son,” he cried, smoothing down Baelfire’s curls and swearing to keep him safe. If he’d fought he would have died. The pirate had an able body, vastly more training than the recruiters of the Ogres War had provided him. He had no chance.

And he hoped, with all his might, a live but worthless father was better than being orphaned.

~*~

“Rumple! Rumple, hey, shh…” Belle caught the vampire in her arms, ceasing his frantic thrashing at the open air. “Just a dream, it’s just a dream! It’s alright. It’s alright,” she soothed, holding the back of his head.

His mind thudded with too many memories, too many voices, too much, too much and he couldn’t remember what was real. His mind so abused none of it made sense and the only thing that brought him back to this reality was the scent of Belle’s hair. He clung to her, shaking and sweating.

“She left us,” he rasped. “She left- She left him! He needed her, how…”

“Shh, Rumple,” Belle coaxed, torn from sleep and still trying to think clearly herself. “Rumple, it’s alright. It’s alright, no one’s leaving you. It’s okay now,” she promised.

He wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her, her heartbeat reminding him not to cling too tight. “Please don’t go,” he begged. “Don’t go too.”

Belle pulled back, looking at him. She smiled so sweetly, cupped his cheek. “I won’t leave you,” she promised. “I want to be here with you, Rumple, I love you.” He rested against her again, his panic subsiding with each moment that passed. Once himself again, calm and quiet he apologized and she shook her head, lulling him back to sleep with her quiet voice.

Rumplestiltskin’s memories shifted then, turning red with blood, with fire, and with the bittersweetness of satisfactory revenge.

 


	17. Fragile Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his distant past, Rumplestiltskin gets the revenge he craved.

Strength.

He had an immense amount of strength now, constantly pulsing through his body, banishing all weakness from him and burying his former life along with it. ‘Please’ was no longer his weapon, but something he expected from everyone else. He would beg no one ever again. He wouldn’t be helpless, he wouldn’t be at the mercy of another soul for the eternity he had left on this earth.

Save for Baelfire, whom he would give anything, absolutely anything to see again. His life, his soul, the blood of anyone he could get his hands on. He would do anything at all just to set eyes on him again. He was gone. Lost. And it was his fault.

Perhaps it was the cocktail of events -Baelfire being gone, his powers strong, his reputation firmly in place and the immense bloodlust that throbbed along his veins- that made it so easy to challenge the captain that kidnapped and murdered his wife.

One glimpse of the man sent his borrowed blood boiling through him. His fangs itched to be released in the spurt of anger and he forced them back. The last thing he needed was to be discovered by these worthless, brainless little people who would set him ablaze if given the slightest chance.

He allowed the legends to keep them fearful without concrete proof of what he was, and what he was capable of.

The captain took no notice of him, as he expected. Different as he might be internally, nothing had changed about his appearance except his clothing. Killing, threatening and making deals with those who had something to offer had given him a far better life than he’d had before, and in this moment it was just as well that he hadn’t noticed him.

The memories of what he’d done echoed in his mind- the blade against his throat, jabbing against his skin and calling him a coward for not wanting to orphan his child. His sneering little remarks, the haughtiness of his attitude at his weakness. The way he growled at him that he deserved to lose his wife because he wasn’t able to fight for her. None of that had faded from his memory. Not one, single second of his smug words had left his mind.

Humiliation would no longer be tolerated.

And vengeance was now, finally, something he could very readily take.

He smiled to himself, watching the vindictive man enjoy some of the last peaceful moments that he himself was allowing. It would take seconds to tear his throat open and watch him die, but there was no fun in that. No sport to it. He wanted to take his time. Savor his death with as much relish he could milk from the situation.

A duel would suffice. Resume the one he’d challenged him to on equal -well, sort of- footing and then rip him apart. Yes, that sounded divine.

He sat perfectly still, perfectly patient, and waiting for the opportune moment to arise.

~*~

The withered little man who’d peeped like a canary upon their first meeting was much different now. Dressed in finer clothing, his eyes hungry for carnage and black in nature. There was something...unsettling about him now.

When asked, the name Rumplestiltskin sent ripples of terror throughout the people he’d addressed. A monster, they called him. A master of the shadows, a bloodthirsty creature, The Dark One.

That was the name that stuck, the title that frightened so many that he couldn’t allow to frighten him as well.

“He’ll kill you,” Milah blurted, stalking across the deck of the ship away from him. “I’ve heard the stories, Killian, I know what he can be like when he isn’t afraid. He’s going to kill you!”

“Ah, come now, love,” he smiled, touching her cheek. “No one’s going to kill me. He’s just a man after all, he can’t possibly harm anyone. Just a lot of talk from superstitious peasants. You really going to believe them when you know what he’s like?”

Millah huffed, pursing her lips and looking out at the open water. “We could go,” she said quietly. “We could sail away right now and never look back here.”

“What, so I can be a coward like him?” He demanded, turning her around. “I’m going to fight him. And I’m going to win. And when I do, you can rest easy knowing he’s dead and can’t do a damn thing to us ever again. We can be happy, together, forever.”

She smiled, just a little, hands pressed against his chest. “Sounds like a fairytale.”

“Maybe it is,” he offered, spinning her around with him. “I’m no prince, but I think I can suffice as a decent stand-in.” She laughed, forgetting the man she once married and the legends surrounding him. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t be anything more than the spinner made jaded and bitter from their time apart. He couldn’t possibly be much of a threat.

Rumplestiltskin was nothing. Everyone knew that.

~*~

Oh yes, he was going to win.

The fight would be over in minutes and he wouldn’t even break a sweat doing it. Killian was skilled, but so was he. He’d taught himself  and wouldn’t you know, he was rather good at it.  

One of the many perks of his recent curse was speed. He could move faster than any human could see and therefore he could have ran Killian through and strung him up on the nearest balcony before he’d registered he’d been killed.

He was toying with him.

Letting him think he had an edge, hiding his monstrosity to play with his food. He giggled at the notion, salivating already with the idea of devouring the man who’d threatened him so dishonorably and kidnapped the woman he loved and… And did God knows what to her.

Rage spiked and he stopped playing. His dark eyes went black, and faster than the man could keep track of, he disarmed him, forcing him to his knees with a snarl.

Killian stared up at him, his chest heaving. He stared at the man, bewildered and lost.

“What have you done, spinner?” He gasped, shaking his head. “Sell your soul? What demon did you allow to take you like this?”

The imp grinned down at him, tipping his chin up with the tip of the blade, his smile horrifically satisfied. “It was one I took willingly, pirate,” he chuckled, his fangs unsheathed at will. “One I eagerly became. Just for this.”

Killian balked, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. “What the hell are you?”

He giggled. “Something special, dearie!” He rushed him, keeping the blade on the hollow just above his clavicle, grinning horribly at him.

He wanted to rip the heart out of his chest and devour it before it ceased to beat, to know fully that the life of this true monster who’d taken a mother from a child was dead, and he could be satisfied that he’d done what he wished he was capable of then.

“Go on,” Killian panted. “I’m ready for the sword.”

“No…” He growled, leaning in closer. “Do you know what it’s like? To have your wife stolen from you? To feel powerless to stop it? It feels like having your heart ripped from your chest. Actually,” he lowered the blade, snarling, “Let me show you.”

He raised his arm, enough fiery hatred to tear into his flesh and take what he wanted. Nails bared, fire lighted in his eyes he moved to rip it out before Killian could close his eyes he dug into his chest, letting him feel the muscles and tendons strain against his nails. Take his time, take all the time in the world…  

“Stop!”

He froze, his head whipping toward the voice. His snarl faded, confusion and a very sudden gut wrenching sting biting at his wounded heart. “Milah?” He looked at her a beat longer, letting the pirate go and straightening up, shaking his head. “Milah.” She couldn’t be here, it wasn’t possible. “How?”

“Milah, you have to run!” Killian grunted, watching the monster’s fangs glint in the firelight, his eyes blacker than the night above them.

“No, I’m not leaving without you,” Milah breathed, almost refusing to look at her former husband and what he’d become.

“Oh how sweet,” he crooned in a sickly sweet voice, “it appears there’s more to this tale than I already know! Tell it to me, Milah!” He demanded, moving faster than she could see to get closer to her while Killian grunted again in protest.

“Please, don’t hurt him!” Milah pleaded. “I can explain!”

“TICK TOCK, DEARIE! _TICK TOCK!”_ It hurt too much. His chest was on fire, the needles of pain that pricked the sensitive organ now and again all bit into him and punctured what hope he had left. The slightest little inkling that Milah had loved him being crushed while she explained why she left.

Why she abandoned their son.

Why she didn’t want him.

“I didn’t know how to tell you the truth, I’m sorry!” She persisted, trying to catch his gaze now. To force herself to look at him and it made his insides squirm.

He saw her disgust, saw her displeasure at his appearance, at what he’d become. She wanted him to be strong, to be brave and unafraid and here he was, all of that and more. And she still didn’t want him. He still wasn’t good enough.

It broke him.

So much he wanted to say, so much that his bruised heart wanted to gush to her. How he’d spent every day loathing himself for his cowardice. How his dreams were overflowing with visions of her being tortured, being forced to be ‘company’ to pirates and it was all his fault. Being drowned, being stabbed, having her neck broken, starving to death, beaten to death under the abuses of the men he’d left her to.

And she’d simply fallen in love with someone else and was too afraid to tell him otherwise. The woman who spit in his face and lashed him across the chest with a belt and hissing _‘coward’_ at him for trying to sleep in their bed, had been too afraid to tell him she was leaving him.

All of this he wanted to point out to her, but the masks were so much easier to put into place.

“And so here we are!” He grinned, stepping closer still. “You’ve come to save the life of your twoo love, the pirate!” He accused, turning his pain into anger, his regret into disgust, his heartbreak into bloodlust. “I didn’t realize the power of true love before. It is impressive. I’d hate to break it up.”

He giggled, cheek twitching in hate. He bared his fangs again, turning toward Killian and snatching him up to tear his throat open.

“Wait!” He paused, not looking up from Killian’s neck. “I have something you want.”

His black eyes rose to hers, his head cocking with interest. “Well I find that very difficult to believe.”

Milah reached into the bag at her hip, withdrawing a phial of blood. Impossibly old, horrifically so and he stared at her, curious. “Where did you get that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly. “I know what you are. I know you’ve been looking for a way to walk in the light. Here it is.”

He let Killian drop again, moving closer to her and reaching for it. She pulled it back, away from him.  

“Do we have a deal?” She asked, staring at him knowingly. His sneer grew. “Can we go our separate ways?” There was a desperation in her voice, a need to get to Killian, who was muttering curses at him while he tried to sit up, his chest bleeding and soaking his shirt.

“Do you mean, do I forgive you?” Rumple growled, speaking with great flourish to mask himself again.

Was he really so dreadful before? He loved her and let her do as she wished to him and Baelfire loved her so…

“Can I move on?” He smirked. “Perhaps, perhaps.” He was pacing in front of her, like a large cat contemplating its meal. “I can see you are, _twooly_ in love.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, relieved, and Killian gave her an encouraging smile, managing to haul himself up and slump against the wall. It satisfied the Dark One to no end, his weakness.

“Just one question!” He spat, turning on his heels and clicking them together.

“What do you want to know?” Milah asked, her voice shaky.

Rumple licked his fangs, the smile gone, the ridiculousness disappearing in an instant. “How could you leave Bae?”

She took a breath, lost as his rage became palpable, his voice like a slow, black tar of a poison meant to suffocate her with words alone.

“Do you know what it was like? Walking home that night?” He snarled.

“Rumple-”

“Knowing I had to tell our son! his mother was dead.” He drove the word into her like a dagger, and his fingers itched to tear her throat open and give her heart a real reason to flutter with such ferocity. Killian’s was hammering against his chest, the smell of their fear thick in the air and he loved it. He relished it, he wanted it desperately.

“I was wrong to lie to you. I was the coward, I know that-”

“You left him!” He grabbed her throat, shoving her against the wall. “You abandoned him!”

“And there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t feel sorry for that!” She pleaded, pressed against the brick.

“SORRY ISN’T ENOUGH!” He roared, shaking with anger, drinking in her fear and Killian’s desperation to keep himself from tearing her apart.

She was still Baelfire’s mother.

“You let him go.”

And she abandoned him.

“I let my misery cloud my judgement,” she appealed, as if he could ever understand why she felt her life was so horrible, why his cowardice was such a burden to her when he was the one being branded and beaten and ostracized for it.

“Why were you so miserable?” He growled, truly confused, wanting to understand what he’d done that was so wrong.

“Because I never loved you.”

The way she looked at him. The way she spat out the words with no remorse, just clear, unabashed revulsion.

_“You should have died!”_

_“Just kill yourself.”_

_“Run home, Rumplestiltskin, it’s what you’re good at.”_

_“I never loved you.”_

The flowers. The wreaths he’d left her. The way she smiled at him when she discovered they were from him. That she’d hoped they were.

Walking together, dancing together, talking until the sun rose and fell again, their joy at simply being together. Their wedding. The first night he held her so close and whispered to her that he loved her more than anything in this world, and she repeated his words back to him.

It was a lie.

All of it was immediately tarnished with the hatred of her words and it meant nothing. Tainted. Broken. Blackened and bruised. His heart was shattered like an eggshell.

It was only fair that he returned the favor.

With more rage than he’d ever experienced, Rumplestiltskin slammed his fist through her chest entirely, wrapped his clawed fingers around her heart and ripped it directly from her chest before she could utter a single word to the pirate scrambling to get to her. But it was done.

The muscle ceased its beating in his palm, and he watched with a satisfied sneer as Killian ran over and knelt beside her.

He didn’t even want her blood. Milah’s heart spilled out of his hand in a mess of torn flesh with a wet slap and he watched the cobblestones flood with red beneath her. Even the smell of her made him sick.

“No!” Killian bellowed desperately, lifting her into his arms, staring at her lifeless face while he gloated down at them.

He scowled up at him, the loss in his chest making him hollow. “You may be more powerful now, demon, but you’re no less a coward!” He shouted, waiting for his turn. The wrath of this horrific beast couldn’t possibly be done, not with him still living.

Rumple opened his hand, smirk deep in his features. “I’ll have that now,” he said, nodding to the phial on the ground. Killian scowled, clasping it tight in his hand and staggering to his feet.

“You’ll have to kill me first!” He bellowed, waiting and ready to join her, to be with Milah again somewhere better than this godforsaken alleyway with this monster.

“Ah, ah, ah! I’m afraid that’s not in the cards for you, sonny boy,” he grinned, lifting his sword off the ground with his boot and slicing the hand holding what he wanted clean off his wrist.

Killian screamed, buckling and collapsing, but he’d managed to deter the creature further. He’d crushed the phial, the blood all over his lost hand, useless.

The Crocodile snarled and pressed the sword against his throat. “Big mistake, dearie!” He roared, smiling gleefully and laughing now. He could do without that, he’d find another way, but this…

“I want you alive,” he purred, an idea dawning in his dark eyes. “Because I want you to suffer, like I did.” He giggled, and before Killian could say another word, there were fangs embedded in his throat.

He cried out, writhing and fighting to get away from him while his life ebbed from his body. No. No, the Crocodile was going to make him…

The edges of his vision were going black, his mind addled and he wondered for a moment if giving the blood to him would have been wiser than this. He grunted when he let go, staring at him and the blood on his lips.

“You see, dearie, I’m going to make you like me,” he chuckled. “And when I do?” He slit his wrist open, forcing it against his lips with a growl. “And when I do? You won’t be able to hurt me.” Killian made a distressed sound, fighting to get away from him, to think of something to die or to run the disgusting coward through.

Instead he drank. His life depended on it and instincts wouldn’t allow him to refuse. “I’m going to make you live forever without my wife by your side,” he said, speaking quietly though his teeth. “I’m not sure what the worst torture is: Living forever without your true love, never getting to sail on your precious ship again, or being forced to care for the man who took it from you.”

Killian’s world went black and his head lolled against the concrete. Rumple laughed, dragging him away from the scene by his collar, toward the wooded area not far from where they were where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

On his way he passed a shipment of sailing equipment and plucked a hook from the pile. “Should come in handy soon, eh?” He giggled to his unconscious companion, pleased with himself.

Milah was dead and his heart followed quickly. As he threw the pirate who’d taken so much from him with no remorse into the grave he’d dug them both he felt nothing. Numb, unloved as he was he decided not having it was better than trying to receive it.

 _“I was never meant to be a father.”_  Final words spoken to him from a man he trusted, from a father that was supposed to take care of him, not abandon him for a life without worries. And now...now Milah hadn’t cared for him either. Perhaps...perhaps he wasn’t worthy of it.

He banished the thought, burying him and his new progeny in the dirt to await his transformation. Oh, he would be absolute hell to raise like this, but it would be worth it. The pirate who’d threatened his life when he couldn’t defend it now had to spend an eternity groveling for forgiveness if he ordered him to.

And perhaps that was better than any love he could have.

~*~

Killian glared at the tattoo on his arm, stroking his fingers over it. He swallowed the pangs of worry he had for his maker, ignoring the urge to try and see him, to ease this horrible worry that something was irrevocably wrong with him.

He loathed every moment. He hated his attachment to him, he despised this emotional connection with him, feeling that he was in trouble and not saying a word about it to anyone. He wondered if Cora felt it too. He wondered if she hated it like he did. He doubted it. Cora wanted this, he didn’t. He wanted death and the potential afterlife with Milah. Not an eternity with the sick bastard who toyed with him so unfairly.

Part of him knew he deserved it, after all that he’d done to the Crocodile, and this was only fair.

He hated that more than anything.

 


	18. Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple struggles to recover from Zelena's torture.

“Help! Help me, Rumple, please, make it stop!”

They were standing at the foot of the cot, Belle’s hands bound behind her back, the shears in Zelena’s hand glowing with heat she’d applied with a simple lighter. She burned Belle’s skin over and over again, ripping her skirt off to cut at her thighs.

With her eyes locked with Rumple’s Zelena pressed the searing blades against her flesh, holding her against her with an arm across her throat.

Belle screamed again and he fought against his binds, the collar choking him, the silver cutting deep into his wrists and he couldn’t make a sound. He opened his mouth and nothing would come out. No protests, no screams, no bellows of hatred, he had to watch in silence.

“Such a pretty little thing…” Zelena grinned, dragging them along her tattered blouse while he watched in horror. “Almost too pretty, don’t you think, pet?” He shook his head, watching the blades come closer and closer to Belle’s face.

“No, no, please!” She begged, shaking. “Please, don’t- Rumple, make her stop, please! No, no, don’t-”

He he screamed soundlessly with her, watching the imprint of the shears brand into her cheek and scar her for the rest of her life.

“There, isn’t that better?” Zelena cackled, turning her face and biting the marred flesh on her jaw. Belle screamed in frustration and anger as well as pain, trying to jerk away.

“Ooh, feisty little pig, aren’t you? Should we show her the main event, pet? Hm? Do you think she’d like that?”

Belle looked at him, tears on her face, confused and unsure. Rumple shook his head, hard, trying to plead and beg with all that he had but he could, not, speak.

Belle was dragged beside the cot by her hair, forced to her knees with eyes forced on his waist. Zelena kept a hold on her hair as she straddled him. And he fought and pulled and Belle started to cry, trying to look at him.

“No, don’t make me watch! Please, let go! Let us go, leave him alone! He didn’t do anything to you don’t- You’ll ruin him!”

She did have to watch. Zelena cackled and twisted her hands in Belle’s hair, forcing her face closer, making her watch as he was violated and...and ruined.

“Stop, stop, please! Please, make it stop!” She cried, shaking her head, her beautiful face red and angry with the injury, the rest of her body constantly trembling. “Rumple, why are you letting this happen to you?” She glared at him, her eyes icy and hard. “Why are you so fucking _weak?!”_

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Belle, please! I’m trying, I’m trying!”

“Coward,” she hissed. “You can’t save yourself, you can’t even save me!”

“See, pet?” Zelena hissed, biting his ear as she whispered into it. “I told you. You’re mine, you’re all mine. And no one else will ever want you.”

“NO!”

~*~

He gasped awake, twisting away from hands trying to hold him down and falling to the floor, where he gasped and curled into himself, shutting his eyes and unable to hear the concerned shouts of the woman behind him.

Belle leapt off the bed and fell to her knees in front of him, reaching for him, gasping when he jerked away, covering his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Belle! I tried, I tried to stop her, but I-I’m weak, I’m so weak!” He whispered, speaking to the floor and trying to hide against the bed.

“Shh, Rumple, no. No, you aren’t weak. You’re not weak- Shh...It’s alright. It’s okay, I’m here,” she soothed, gently taking his hands from his face and holding them in hers.

It registered when he saw her that there was no burn on her face, and he instantly reached out and touched her cheek. The back of his fingers slid along her uninjured features, his eyes just as fearful and confused as Belle’s were. An idea struck him and he began looking her over frantically for the other injuries inflicted, finding none and quickly gathered her in his arms to shield her.

Belle hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck and stroked his hair. “Shh...I’m okay. I’m fine, Rumple, I’m not hurt,” she whispered, sensing his despair. “It was just a dream. Just a bad dream, I’m here. I’ve got you. Shh…”

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he breathed, clinging to her. “I wanted to help you, I did.”

“Hey.” She leaned back, looking up at him. “It’s alright, sweetheart. It was just a dream, it wasn’t real.”

She smiled at him, half perched in his lap and holding him just as desperately as he was clinging to her. “I’m fine, I’m not hurt. She can’t hurt me.”

“She...she ruined me, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, shaking all over.

Belle shook her head, holding him tight to her, unable to speak past the sudden lump that swelled in her throat. She shut her eyes tight and continued shaking her head, turning her face into his neck and pressing soft kisses there while tears leaked down her cheeks.

He pressed into the touch, greedy for the gentle contact. He felt her tears on his skin and he closed his eyes. “I-I wish I could fix it, Belle, I do. B-But I-”

“Shh,” she swallowed hard and looked up at him, smiling and shaking her head though she was still crying. “No. You’re not, you’re not ‘ruined,’ Rumple, that’s a horrible thing to think.” He winced, bowing his head and chastising himself.

“Hey,” she lifted his face, still smiling. “I know it hurts. I, I can only imagine what you’re going through and I can’t relate completely. But, but I can be here for you. And I can promise you that I want you here. I want you with me and I love you. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He crumpled into her arms, crying as well and trying not to get the blood on her clothes. “I feel horrible, Belle,” he whispered. “I don’t feel worthy of this. Of anything. I feel worthless.” The words gushed out of him against his will, but he felt lighter now that they were out, like he’d given them to her.

“Everyone deserves to be cared for,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “You aren’t unworthy of love, Rumple, you deserve it just like everyone else. You deserve happiness and warmth. You deserve to feel safe and have people who care about you.” She looked up at him, thumbing his cheek. “You deserve me.”

She wiped the tears away with a tissue and took his hands. “Now, I don’t think either of us will be happy to spend the day on the floor,” she said softly, wincing as blood trickled from his ear and dabbed it away as well. “And you need to get back to sleep.”

He lied down again, immediately turning on his side to face her. Every muscle in his body fought against his sleeping on his back. He was too exposed like that.

Belle shushed him softly again, guiding his head into her lap where she draped her hand over his hair and pet it back with smooth, gentle strokes.

“She can’t hurt me,” she promised, watching the worry in his eyes. “I swear to you, Rumple, she’s not going to hurt me. And if she tries? I’ll rip her damn throat out.”

Rumple laughed a little, not because he didn’t believe her, but because he knew Belle would, and could do just that. He’d never doubt her for anything.

He nodded, closing his eyes and listening to her heartbeat. He fought to clear his mind of anything that wasn’t Belle and that sound. Zelena, Killian, Milah and any other nightmares that had come clawing at him were banished from his mind and he shook his head, closing his eyes tight.

Belle shushed him gently, just touching him and watching him drift back off to sleep. “I’m here,” she said softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

~*~

“Can’t find the bitch anywhere,” Jefferson said softly, lips pursed in agitation. “Her house, the town, I can’t get a whiff of her. I swear to god if someone’s lying to me…” He growled.

Belle touched his shoulder, glancing toward the front room where Rumple was resting. “She can’t have just disappeared.”

“She’s not in Storybrooke, that’s all I know,” he sighed, pinching between his brow. “I talked Graham into getting his pack to roam around the next couple towns over, but there’s miles of woods between there and here. She could be-”

“Okay,” Belle sighed, shutting her eyes and cutting him off. “What, what about the Authority, are they doing anything?”

Jefferson chuckled. “They won’t do anything until they talk to him.”

Belle shook her head. “They need to leave him alone, everyone needs to give him some damn space, that’s not fair!”

It was Jefferson’s turn to touch her shoulder and remind her to stay calm, giving it a little squeeze to soothe her. “I know,” he said gently. “I know they do, and the way they’ve handled this whole damn thing is a fucking disgrace, but that’s their terms.”

She shook her head. “I don’t like this. I don’t like any of it. I...I just want to help him.”

Jefferson nodded, smiling a little at her. “I know. And you’re the first person in a long, long time to want to put his needs first. To wanna take care of him. You’re an angel, Belle, one he really needed.”

He glanced out the window, watching the sun dip down completely and Ruby give him a nod from the yard. “My turn. You got everything okay?” Belle nodded, chewing her lip. “Hey,” he ducked his head to meet her eyes. “He’s gonna be alright. He has you.”

Jefferson went out the door, giving Rumple a smile on his way out.

The Dark One had heard everything they’d said. He’d tried not to focus on what they were saying, but the spike of fear that shot through him knowing they hadn’t found Zelena yet had him on edge, and his hearing focused so sharply he couldn’t help it.

Belle was worried, Jefferson was worried and now so was he. He hadn’t known the Authority wanted to speak to him before they took action on finding that witch, and it made him sick to think about trying to put on the front he carried right now. He wouldn’t be able to talk abou it in any capacity, not one word, without clamming up and stuttering and ultimately getting angry and leaving.

And if there was one group he refused to appear weak in front of, it was them. He didn’t want to give them any sort of excuse to dethrone him.

He tried to appear unaware when Belle came in, closing his eyes when she touched his hair as she passed behind him and looking at her when she sat on the sofa with him. He tried to smile at her, but it was strained and worried. It took Belle less than six seconds to know.

“I’m sorry, we should’ve- It’s not that we don’t want to talk to you it’s-”

“No, I know,” he said softly. “I understand. And I appreciate it,” he assured, reaching out and squeezing her hand. “It’s alright, Belle.”

His touches to her were even softer now, all the more hesitant and overly cautious, as if afraid the emotions beneath would burst from him and he’d hurt her. But she wasn’t afraid, she was never scared of him, never. She scooted closer to him, carefully reaching out to touch his face.

“We’ll find her,” she promised. “She won’t hurt you again, we’ll find her.”

He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath when she touched him, fighting to remember that. “Right,” he said softly. He swallowed and opened his eyes again. “I desperately want to believe that, Belle. I really do.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, her eyes pained. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Belle,” he whispered, pulling her into his lap and hesitantly wrapping his arms around her. He still felt disgusting. Unworthy. Loathsome and foul and he didn’t want to get it on her. However, Belle didn’t seem to mind him at all. She leaned her face against his chest and took his hands, stroking over his fingers and his palms with her own. “Don’t be sorry, my dear. This isn’t your fault.”

Belle swallowed, looking up at him him. “I feel like it is. I feel like I could have done more, so much more to get you out of there faster. If I would’ve gone when I suspected I could have-”

“No!” He said with a harsh grunt, wincing when she flinched from him. He softened, shaking his head minutely, fear clogging his throat. “I-I’m glad you waited. Until you had some help. If, if you would have come and she would have caught you…” He swallowed the bile that rose in the back of his throat, a terrified shudder working through his bones. “I don’t want to think about what she would have done to you.”

Belle nodded, blinking up at him. “I’m sorry, Rumple. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He shook his head, brow clenched and hugged her, hiding his face in the top of her head.

She hugged him back, closing her eyes as well. He wasn’t alright. She could feel it in his arms that he was far from alright. And she shouldn’t expect him to be. It’d only been three days since she’d gotten him out of there. She was surprised he still wasn’t sleeping. He’d looked so exhausted…

He let go after awhile, attempting another smile. “Do, um, do you still have that box I left for you?” He asked quietly. She nodded, reaching into the pocket of her sweater and showing it to him. “Would you like to open it now?”

Belle smiled and nodded, carefully opening the ribbon and peeking inside.

It was a key labeled library. She blinked at it, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips and she looked up at him curiously.

“The one on the corner? It’s been empty for years. I couldn’t find anyone who wanted to run it, but the building’s mine.  And I...I want you to have it,” he said softly, watching her face intently.

She beamed, her cheeks pinked  and flushed with gratitude. “Rumple, this...this is amazing,” she whispered. “This, a whole library, just for me?”

He smiled, truly smiled, for the first time since he’d been home and kissed her forehead with tentative lips. “All yours, sweetheart. To do with as you please. Whether you want to open it to everyone or keep every page to yourself, it’s yours.”

Belle grinned at him and kissed him tenderly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much for this, I...I don’t know what I can ever do to repay this-”

“You saved me,” he said quietly, turning his eyes away from her. “That’s what you did. And you needn’t do anything else, Belle. Getting me out of there was more than enough.”

It sickened him to think that Belle had found him like that. That she’d seen him so heinously weak and broken like that and he still didn’t know how to pick up the pieces. He thumbed her cheek with his cold fingers, stopping to look at her when she covered her hand with his.

She kissed him again, wrapping her arms protectively around his neck, squeezing him close. She didn’t say anything, she just held him.

He hugged her back, closing his eyes. “I’ll try to get better,” he whispered. “I’m trying, Belle, really I am.”

“Shh,” she whispered, turning her head to brush her lips against his neck. “It’s alright. You need time to heal, Rumple, it’s only been a few days. The rest can wait. All that matters is you getting better, alright?” She goaded, smiling up at him. He nodded back to her. “Damn anyone who tries to impede on that.”

No one would be coming near him. Not while she was around to say something about it. He needed to be left in peace, left to remember what it’s like not to be afraid constantly and to get the visions of that heinous woman out of his mind as much as possible. He needed time to live again before being bombarded by moronic people who should’ve listened to her in the first place instead of leaving him.

She held him again, his face pressed in her neck. His tension eased a bit, surrounded in her scent and close to her blood. He nestled deeper there, holding her. He felt safer here, or at least that it was easier to hide if his face was buried in her hair and her neck, her gentle fingers moving delicately through his hair, kissing his head and his temple with soft little coos and whispers.

He was safe, Belle was safe, it was over, why did he still feel like such unworthy filth?

Perhaps if they caught her. If they...if they knew where she was then perhaps...perhaps he wouldn’t still be fighting the urge to tremble or kicking away the constant onslaught of flashes of memory. Her face, her voice, her body, her hands, those chains coming down on his body, the shears embedded in his leg.

A shudder worked through him and Belle held him closer, shushing him gently. “It’s alright. It’s alright, Rumple. I have you. I have you, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

It wasn’t a dream, this was real. He wasn’t wishing and fantasizing about what might be, what could be, this was real. He could feel Belle. He’d fed on Belle. He’d slept beside her and hugged her and kissed her and everything was alright.

“I love you,” he said quietly, kissing the hinge of her jaw. She smiled, and he could feel it against his cheek.

“Oh, I love you too, Rumple,” she whispered. “So very much.”

At least now when he was weak and afraid he had someone who cared for him enough to hold him up rather than knock him down. He had someone who would stay with him, stay close and hold him and love him. She loved him.

Perhaps that would make this time easier.

Perhaps this time he wouldn’t have to become a monster to drown out his pain. What frightened him was the high possibility that he might. He swallowed and gripped Belle closer.

“Don’t let me become a monster again, Belle,” he whispered. “Don’t let me hurt you.”

Belle gave a sad, but understanding smile and shut her eyes, nodding against him. “If you think I’ll let you get away with anything you’ve another thing coming, mister. King or no, I will yell at you.”

She laughed, and he chuckled, relaxing a little.

Maybe he would be alright.

~*~

Her dreams had been ruined. Broken, shattered and useless as the pieces of canning jar in her hand. She traced the R she’d so carefully written there, simpering quietly against the wall. She’d wanted so much and she’d been so close.

Then that little rat stole her pet from her. She and that silk-wrapped slut her pet had wasted his time and energy on had snatched him from her so cruelly, and took her life with it. She was going to be with him forever. She was going to make him love her and be with her forever. It might take some time but they were going to be happy!

She saw them together, her pet and her, tearing humans apart for sport, bathing in infant blood together, a constant high that would never go away for all of eternity. That wasn’t so much to ask for. Had she been given more time her pet wouldn’t have wanted to leave her. He would have realized that she was the only one worthy of him, the only one who truly wanted anything to do with him.

He would see that stupid little girl and all her fussing and promises of care meant nothing. A shallow, pathetic and lying little bitch who only wanted him because he was interesting at the time. She would lose interest, she would leave him. But not her. No, she would groom her new pet for as long as they lived and remind him what love really was. She wouldn’t have stopped until he adored her and worshipped her as she deserved. And then there would be nothing to turn him against her. Then she would have power over the most powerful vampire there was.

She supposed that even now she had some. She had his fear. It was so palpable on him. She could taste it in his sweat and his blood. She knew what his fear smelled like and it was delicious. She could still use that, given the opportunity, and she would.

This wasn’t over yet. She hadn’t been caught and he hadn’t forgotten her. His little porcelain pig might be trying to erase her but she’d left such a lasting impression on every inch of his narrow little body. She had time to get him back to her.

And if he resisted, she would waste no time in killing him. Better he die as a perfect, frightened and pathetic little lamb as she had left him than the slave of that _girl._

Belle would pay too, she would make sure of that. Her death would be slow and painful and her pet would either watch or participate in it. She’d make sure of that. She’d make sure she screamed so loud her little shriek of a voice would break forever. She would make sure shatter, make her beg for death of some kind, and grant her that peace.

Once she was out of the way there would be nothing to hold her pet back. He would succumb to her. Yes, yes, if she got rid of the girl then everything could be perfect again.

In the dank room that reeked of human blood, chains dangling from the ceiling and pieces of flesh scattered about the walls, she grinned and wept with such happiness.

Her happily ever after was within her grasp. All she had to do was be patient.

She licked a shard of glass in her hand, taking some of the leftover blood on it and tipped her head back to let the bliss take her. Yes, she could be as patient as necessary.

 


	19. Authority

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin finally holds an audience with the Authority, who have their own ideas about what happened to him.

“You’re sure about this?”

“Have to be, don’t I?”

“No, you don’t, that’s what I’ve been telling you for the past two hours, Rumple, you don’t have to do this just because they’re bullying you into it.”

Rumplestiltskin looked down at her, where she was clinging to his arm. She looked so worried for him, so scared, and she knew she’d have to let him go so he could go inside properly but she wouldn’t until the last possible second.

The Authority had been relentless for a week, constantly attempting to summon him to talk about what had occurred with the human who’d supposedly been responsible for kidnapping him - and his lack of duties while captive. They wanted answers and, more importantly, they wanted a reason to knock him from his throne.

He wouldn’t allow that to happen.

He couldn’t lose the power he’d fought and kicked and struggled for for nearly a thousand years, he couldn’t let it all go now because Zelena had decided to destroy him.

He turned to Belle and brushed his fingertips along her cheek, holding her chin. “It’s alright, Belle,” he said softly. “I’ll be alright.”

She trusted him, and his judgement, but she knew better than to think he was perfectly alright. Nightmares still riddled his sleep, his waking moments restless and panicked, constantly looking over his shoulder waiting for… something horrible to happen.

They needed to catch Zelena. With her, they’d be able to show them why Rumple needed the time he did to recover -though it was only ten days, not nearly enough time, why were they pushing him so hard?- and not have this constant questioning of his motives and his mental wellness.

She was scared for him, and she wanted to shield him from these people, but she couldn’t. Not today.

She turned into his palm and kissed it, stopping in front of him to straighten his tie. “I’ll try and keep to myself,” she assured. “Stay quiet and all that.”

He glanced at the large set of doors he was expected through. “Belle, it might be best if you don’t come with me,” he explained. “They may say some things about you, or me, that neither of us will sit idly by about. And that won’t be good for either of us.”

Belle swallowed, lips pursed, and pressed her hands over his lapels. She nodded, looking away and biting her lip. “Yes, I’ll-I’ll just look around the house. Can’t imagine what kind of library a place like this has.” She forced a smile and he could hear the worry in her heartbeat.

“I’ll be alright,” he promised again, keeping his voice quiet so the words didn’t bounce off the vast hall of the Apprentice’s claimed home in this town.

He gave Belle a soft kiss and she turned to leave, giving him a small smile and a tiny wave before she stepped through the doorway and started wandering the halls.

He steeled himself. All affections and warmth left his expression in an instant. His dark eyes turned black  and he straightened his posture, gripping the cane in a tight fist.

He didn’t want Belle to see him like this. Cold, unfeeling, uncaring and indifferent. A monster saving face in front of the equally cold and distant ones on the other side of those doors.

He threw them open with both hands. stalking inside with the barest of smirks on his lips, stopping in front of the heavy oaken desk at the opposite end of the room.

The Apprentice sat behind it, Isaac, ever the faithful lapdog, at his side. Tamara sat in the corner, but also behind the border of power the desk provided.

Killian and Cora stood when he entered, the pair of them tense with worry while Regina continued to regard him with a bored expression.

Miss Swan was on one of the couches, arms folded and clearly on ege about this entire situation. Graham sat beside her.

The other members of the Authority were positioned around the room. A woman wrapped in tight conservative clothing called Blue was opposite Isaac, her stony gaze on him and he felt that rage boil hotter deep inside of him- all the more reason to dismiss niceties.

The others didn’t matter, he had the support he needed. Not that his progeny had a choice in the matter, but it stood.

“Well, I’m here,” he said, eyes locked with the Apprentice. “What was so absolutely dire that you had to bother me in my home every night?”

“You?” Blue smirked. “If the reports are correct it was your girl we bothered, not you.”

“Mm, but I had to deal with your incessant knocking,” he said, jerking his head toward her, his own hateful smirk in place. “Startling how close to your voice it sounds, dearie.”

“You’ve no right to-”

“Enough,” The Apprentice sighed, holding up his hand to effectively silence her. “Rumplestiltskin, I think you know good and well why you’re here. We need to discuss this so-called kidnapping that occurred.”

He chuckled. “Ah, so you don’t believe I was truly taken?”

“It does seem a bit odd that The Dark One was kidnapped by a human woman,” Isaac snickered, Blue joining him. He continued to smile, cheek twitching in hatred.

It was easier to pretend he didn’t know the person they were talking about, to put a veil up and refuse to let the face belonging to the person rise to the forefront of his mind.

“Stranger things have happened,” he said through his teeth. “It’s not as if humans haven’t been underestimated before by us, now have they? Unless we’ve decided the countless slaughters against our kind were just happy accidents.”

“We were just curious, how, in this time, with humans being so fragile and you not only being exceptionally aged but royalty as well, managed to be taken by some woman. So you claim, anyway,” The Apprentice stated.

“This particular young woman had so much V in her system it’s shocking that she hadn’t managed to turn herself with all the blood she consumed,” he explained, still keeping up the veil to keep her faceless, nameless.

“And you claim it was this, Zelena West, is that correct?”

He steeled himself, his insides tensing as the veil was tugged at and a flash of her face, her voice, her scent, flooded over him and he had to stop the bile that rose in the back of his throat. He nodded once. “Yes, as I and Miss French have told you many times.”

“Excuse me for interrupting, but, um, how exactly do we know that you were even kidnapped at all?” Isaac asked. “I mean, you could have easily just disappeared and not wanted to tell that girl of yours where you were out of guilt and worried us all for nothing, am I right?”

He reeled for possibly half a second and smirked, scoffing and shaking his head. “Because of course I would allow all of this fuss to happen because I was too afraid to tell some girl-” Spitting those words out made his tongue sting and his heart twist. “-that I was going to do as I pleased? You really think me such a coward?”

“Do you really want an answer to that, Dark One?” Blue laughed, glaring at him.

“You’ve been given the jar of my blood, haven’t you?” He asked, keeping his attention on the Apprentice, who nodded.

“Of course we have. The problem is, well, we have no proof you didn’t give it willingly,” he said, looking at him.

Willingly.

“ _Please, please, Zelena don’t take anymore, please. I-I need it, I can’t-” Lights popping in front of his eyes, his face stinging from the blow she just gave to his cheek._

_“All you’ve done is lay here and whine and I can’t take one thing for myself? Are you really so selfish that you won’t allow me one simple pleasure while I take such good care of you? You make me sick.”_

_“Please, no, I’m sorry! I’m sorry…”_

_“You need to learn how to give, Rumplestiltskin…” The needle in his arm was pushed and twisted and he cried out. “Do you think your son would’ve wanted you to be so selfish?”_

He looked at the ground a moment, then broke into another smile. “You’re not going to believe me no matter what I say, are you?”

“Again, Rumplestiltskin, we’ve no proof of what really happened to you,” he said simply. “Without the woman herself to be evaluated even…”

“You’ve spoken to Jefferson and Belle, who both saw-”

“And are both part of a romantic history with you, we can’t tell whether or not they’re simply covering for you.”

“Why would they lie?” He asked through his teeth, grinning dangerously. “What is there to gain from lying to the Authority? Other than myself getting dethroned.”

“The status of your throne-”

“Had better remain untouched.”

It was Emma who’d spoken, looking around the room pointedly. “I don’t know too much about your guys’ politics or whatever but I do know that the government leaders from the human side will not accept another king in this area,” she stated. “I may not like all of his methods but his diplomacy is outmatched. I know how big of a headache Ingrid is for you, I don’t think you want a repeat of the New Years incident.”

Rumple stared at her along with everyone else, a confused but appreciative expression meeting her determined one.

“As important as it is that we keep this community, and the human government itself, happy, we cannot ignore this incident,” Isaac chuckled. “It wouldn’t be prudent. He could go galavanting off again and we end up back where we started.”

“Let’s stop talking about me like I’m not here,” he growled, looking back at him. “What proof can I offer you? You meet her and then what? She’s delusional, she could think anything about what she’s done to me and it would sound as if it were the truth. Would you believe her over me? I’ve no wounds to show you, the prison she kept me in was cleared out before you could get there, what can I possibly say that you’ll believe me?” He laughed, eyes black and hard, the grip on his cane tight enough to shatter it if he flicked his wrist.

“It’s not that we don’t believe you, it just seems a little odd,” the Apprentice sighed. “But if you could locate this elusive woman, perhaps we could close this matter without further incident.”

“Well I’ll certainly do my best,” he hissed. “Am I dismissed?”

“Certainly.”

He turned on his heel, giving a nod to Emma as he limped past.

“Don’t take it so hard, your highness,” Isaac called after him. “It’s not too far-fetched to think a powerful man like yourself would be some woman’s pet!”

The veil ripped down. And with it came the rage and fear he’d so carefully masked, so delicately hidden behind the gossamer.

Before he could blink he had Isaac pinned against the wall, his cane shoved into his throat, choking him and snarling at him. “YOU THINK I WOULD WILLINGLY LET THAT WITCH HAVE AT ME?! YOU THINK I WANTED HER ANYWHERE FUCKING NEAR ME?!”

He let him go and moved to swing at him and beat him until that laughter died from his lips forever but there were hands on him, pulling him back and it only made his panic worse.

Graham and Killian fought to keep him back, shoving him away from Isaac and saying things that were meant to calm him but he couldn’t hear through the rushing in his ears, the terror he felt worse. He threw the both of them off of him, holding his hands out to keep anyone else from approaching him. He said nothing, only straightened his coat  and his tie, breathing hard through flared nostrils.

“That was rude,” he growled out to Isaac, who was rubbing his throat and pouting.

He stalked out, grabbing Belle’s hand as she hurried into the room to see what the commotion was and pulled her with him. He couldn’t hear any of her questions, couldn’t force the sandpaper dryness of his tongue to form words when it was stuck to the roof of his mouth. All he could do was walk outside.

Once there he plucked Belle clean off the ground and ran with her, faster than the human eye could catch. Clumsily and brokenly and he nearly fell twice before he stopped in the backyard of his home, setting her down.

“Rumple, what the hell is going on?!”

~*~

She’d been walking around the mansion, peeking in books in the vast library to see if there was anything worth learning while she was there. She’d need at least a week to figure that out and how she longed for that opportunity.

She found a few things on Rumplestiltskin, old legends scribbled in diaries about a terrifying monster of a man who demanded blood in exchange for favors and ripped people apart without a second thought.

It spoke of a shadow of a man that followed him around, gutted people with the silver hook he wielded instead of a hand. The terror the two unleashed, the rivers of blood left behind them, it sent chills along her body to know that once...once Rumplestiltskin had been something she couldn’t conceive, something she couldn’t imagine him being capable of now.

She set the book aside and turned away from it, reminding herself that it was centuries ago that this happened. He wasn’t the same man anymore, and Killian likely wasn’t either. Not that she cared one way or the other where Killian stood on anything.

He had his reputation for a reason. The Dark One, the terror in the eyes of his progeny when he’d first met her and they realized the harm they’d caused. He was frightening and there was a reason. He was horrifying and had once been so bloodthirsty he exchanged power for the blood of a newborn.

That’s where she’d stopped reading entirely.

She stared at the old leatherbound thing with it’s fragile yellowed pages and carefully reprinted text, shaking her head. She didn’t want to read about the child that he devoured, she didn’t want to know that he’d done such a thing. It made her queasy just thinking about it.

But she had to know.

It was opened and in her hands in seconds while she glanced at the door to make sure she wasn’t being observed.

_The firstborn of our good friend Ella is safe._

_My wife and I aided her in devising a trap for the monster that demanded it from her. A prison was built for him specifically, made of silver and coated in the blood of a strange and horrible creature that makes minions of the dark like him sick._

_With the shackles we had made to keep him trapped in place, the chains we wrapped around him, we were able to tear the beast’s fangs from his mouth. The scourge of his thirst will be no more and he will shrivel and perish in the dank and dirt, where            he belongs._

She covered her lips, horrified and staring at the page. They locked him away. They tore out his fangs, wrapped him in silver and chucked him in some horrible cell for god knows how long, starved and suffering…

The last entry was one sentence, and the page was very clearly stained with remnants of blood.

_He got out._

Those were the last words from one King David Nolan and his wife Mary Margaret. She set it down again and shook her head, not wanting to think about it. She felt so torn between understanding why the people wanted to protect themselves and save that child, but Ella made the deal herself.

She said ‘anything’, that was the price. The contract had been printed in this book for the sole purpose of seeing it was true what it said and yet, knowing what the price might be, the warning given, he didn’t adhere to it.

Horrifying as the request may be, it was a perfectly legal and consented upon on.

A loud thud deeper in the house made her stop. She set the book down and immediately went to where she had been, concerned for her vampire even if she was confused about her feelings for his actions hundreds of years before she was born.

Rumple had just come out of the room he’d disappeared into not forty minutes before, and his face, his eyes, they were unrecognizable. She’d no idea what happened to him, why he looked so cold and distant from everything and why the others in the room he’d just quit looked shocked and a bit frightened.

“Rumple, what’s going on?” She asked, approaching him quickly.

He grabbed her hand too hard and she tried to jerk from him but he wouldn’t let go. “Rumple! Rumple, stop, what’s going on?! You’re hurting me- What happened in there?!”

The night air touched her skin, and then she was off the ground and moving too fast. Her voice left her in the strong wind that consumed the both of them, frightened as she was that they might fall or ram into something.

By the time he set her down she was irate and worried. She was so very scared for him and though she’d asked a hundred times what was wrong he hadn’t spoken to her.

And now, even after her outburst, he wasn’t looking at her. The cold, hard ice melted away slowly, his eyes allowing his fear to shine through once more and bring the color back to them and the longer she looked, she saw he was shaking.

Belle reached out, softening a little and touched his shoulder. “Rumple?”

He shook his head, which was still bowed and gripped the cane desperately. She watched moisture bloom in his eyes and fight to spill over while he tried to hold them back. He gravitated toward her, pressing into her palm unconsciously.

Belle couldn’t stand to watch him cry without doing something about it. She couldn’t do it, she would never be strong enough to watch him cry and do nothing.

She wrapped her arms around him tight, closing her eyes with the grateful sob that tore from his throat. His legs buckled and she held him, dipping a little to keep him from collapsing to his knees in the dirt. “Shh, shh, I have you. You’re safe. You’re safe, Rumple, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“They don’t believe me,” he hissed. “They don’t believe me, Belle, what do I do? What am I supposed to do?”

She closed her eyes and rocked him a little, cupping the back of his head. “We’re going to find her,” she promised. “And we’re going to prove to them what kind of person she is. They’ll understand then. They’ll see.”

He stood there with her a moment longer before he pulled himself back together, standing upright and wiping away the tears he’d gotten on her skin as well as on his own face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know how to make this stop.”

“Time,” she promised, squeezing his hand. “Time will help, Rumple. But you, you can’t lose yourself like that. You nearly broke my hand, you-you’ve got to remember to stay here with me.”

He winced and looked at the delicate, now-bruised hand clasped in his. “I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Belle, I-I won’t ever hurt you again. I-I was so afraid...”

What had he done? He hurt her, he HURT HER! He promised to keep her safe and he wasn’t bad anymore, he wasn’t a monster-

At least he didn’t want to be.

He kissed her hand, cradling it carefully in his larger palm. “You-you can drink from me and it-it’ll heal, if you even want to be near me, I don’t expect you to stay close after this, Belle, I’m so sorry-”

“Rumple, hey, hey,” she shook her head, smiling at him. “It was an accident. You didn’t mean to, you- It’s okay. I’m okay. It doesn’t even hurt that much, I promise.”

Still, the image of that bruise would remain seared into his memory forever. Guilt wrapped around his throat and squeezed tighter than the collar he could still feel, suffocating him. He tried to speak but once again the words were lost and all that came out was a shaky breath and equally quaking lips.

“Shh, shh…” She soothed, hugging him again. He fought to make himself smaller, to shrink into himself and hide where no one could get to him. To bury himself in Belle’s warm embrace and refuse to emerge. “Let’s go inside,” she whispered, kissing his temple. “And we can talk about what happened, alright?”

He swallowed and slowly let her go, giving her a small smile as he went inside.

Jefferson was sat in the living room when they came in, giving the Dark One a little wave as he went upstairs to change, smiling wider when it was returned.

“He looks like Hell,” he remarked, following Belle into the kitchen.

“Something happened,” she said softly, getting the kettle boiling while she dug through tea boxes. “I think something triggered him but I wasn’t in the room.” She swallowed, dropping the box she’d wanted on the counter and reached for a teacup. “He said they don’t believe him.”

He frowned, scowling at the tile. “What the fuck does he have to do to prove that? That’s ridiculous, we both saw him, we both know what happened!”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, turning to look at him. “Did you get ahold of that bounty hunter?”

“It took awhile to find him but yes, I did. He’s on his way up here, but it’ll take a couple days,” he explained. “Ya know, with the sun and everything.”

“And you’re sure he’ll be able to find her?”

“Of course I am, he’s the best there is. Humans, vampires, werewolves, he’ll find anyone and anything in less than three days,” Jefferson sighed, plucking an apple from the basket and tossing it around. “I’ve seen him work before, and there’s no one better, Belle. I promise you that.”

She nodded, folding her lips and swallowing roughly. “I’m so worried about him, Jefferson,” she whispered, looking up at him, blinking with tears in her eyes. “He’s losing himself and I-I’m afraid something’s going to happen and I’m not going to be able to lead him back out.”

“Hey, hey it’s alright,” he promised, ducking his head to look at her, grabbing her shoulders. “I’ve never seen him happier than when he’s with you. I’ve never seen him more...more him, than when he’s with you. He knows who he is with you around, and if there’s anyone that’s going to keep him sane, it’s you. He’s getting better, we’re just in a new stage, okay? It’s getting better.”

Belle sniffed, smiling a little. “Thank you.” She wiped her eyes. “I really appreciate that.”

“We’re taking care of things,” he nodded, pushing himself onto the counter opposite her. “We bring this guy in and it’s gonna be a whole lot better.”

She nodded and turned back to the stove top to pour her tea.. “What did you say his name was?”

“He’s had a couple since I’ve known him,” he explained, sighing. “That whole catching criminals thing tends to be hazardous to one’s health.  But it’s René. René Cassidy.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google 'True Blood Rene' ;D


	20. Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple fights his demons and insists on battling alone; Jefferson and Belle meet the bounty hunter René.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m alright.”

He’d been staring at her hand, holding it in his and looking at where the bruise had been, for the past half hour. He wouldn’t speak to her, wouldn’t move no matter what she said. He just kept looking at her hand.

It was an accident, he hadn’t meant to grab her so hard, he was in the middle of a panic attack. She wouldn’t hold it against him, she wouldn’t scold him for it or scream at him, tell him he was horrible for bruising her, no. It was just an accident.

But since they’d gotten home, since they’d gotten inside, he hadn’t said a word. He’d stopped shaking, and some of the anguish had left his eyes but she hadn’t gotten a word out of him.

He’d cut his wrist, let her drink so her hand healed and cradled it in his own palm, running fingertips over where the bruise and cracked bones had been.

Slowly, she reached out and cupped his cheek, gently turning his chin. He wouldn’t look at her. “Rumple, please,” she whispered. He swallowed. “I know you can hear me, please. Just look at me, talk to me. I’m alright, it’s alright.”

Quiet still, eyes down, a protective hold on her hand now.

“What if it happens again?” He said, finally. “What if I, I wake up from a nightmare and put my entire hand through you? What if I rip your throat out because I’m not sure of who you are, what if I throw you across the room and shatter your spine, Belle? I could murder you without even seeing you. I could crush you because I’m afraid. Anything could happen.”

“I know it won’t,” she nodded, brushing her fingers along his jaw. “I know you would never do something like that, even if you were afraid.”

“I already have!” He hissed, finally looking up at her, eyes pleading. “I already have hurt you, Belle. I didn’t even realize I was doing it and I crushed your hand-”

“It wasn’t broken-”

“It was broken enough!”

Belle stared at him, turning her previously injured hand over and holding his, tight. “You aren’t going to push me away, Rumple. I will not leave you alone here. All that’s going to do is make it worse. You and I both know isolating yourself isn’t going to help you.”

“I don’t care,” he spat, looking back at her. “If you’re safe, I don’t care. I’ll send Jefferson with you to keep you guarded and-”

“And leave yourself open?”

“My progeny have to obey me, I have other guards, dearie.”

Belle’s jaw was tight, her eyes hard. “And they’ll find any loophole they can to abandon you and let her in if she comes around. No.”

“Belle.” He looked at her, guilt already gnawing at his gut about what he was going to do, but it had to be done. She wasn’t safe with him anymore and he wasn’t going to let her get hurt for the sake of his peace of mind. It was better this way.

He focused on her, watching her eyes catch and her body slacken a little as the glamour caught her. “Belle, you don’t want to stay here. You don’t trust me to be careful with you right now, and you don’t want to come back until I ask you to. You want Jefferson to stay with you so Zelena can’t harm you, and you don’t even want to see me. You don’t care about this, about me. You do not care about me-”

Belle frowned, shaking her head, shaking the spell out of her dizzied head, looking up at him. Tears filled her eyes, her lips pursing to keep them in there. “Rumple, are...are you trying to glamour me?”

He paled, stammering and trying to find a reason, or the words, something to say. “I-I didn’t- I’m-”

Belle stood, covering her mouth and stamping out of the room, shaking her head. He could hear her crying down the hall, pressed against the wall with a hand over her mouth and sobs shaking her little body.

He shut his eyes, raking fingers through his hair and cursing. He stood and slammed his heel into a chair, shattering two of the legs and making the entire thing buckle. He swayed a little, chest heaving, teeth clenched and bared.

However, he regretted it, knowing Belle could hear it. She squeaked and ducked into a guest bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Rumple closed his eyes again, just standing there to breathe while his guilt bubbled and churned like tar in his stomach.

“If I’d known we got to break the antiques I would’ve joined this party sooner.”

“Jefferson, now’s not the best time,” he said quietly.

From his perch in the doorway the hatter shrugged. “When’s a good time then, before or after you lash out at someone else you care about?” The Dark One’s fists clenched and he turned, looking back at him. “What? It’s not my fault I have this super-hearing. Part of the curse.”

Jefferson sat down on the window seat, looking up at him. “What’s going on?”

“You know what’s going on,” he retorted, sitting on the bed across from him.

“Mm, no, I know why you and Belle are arguing but I can’t quite pin down why you’re trying to push her away,” he said, staring at him.

Rumple shrugged, clasping his hands and looking at them. He laughed a little. “Not sure it’s your business to be asking about my love-life, Jefferson.”

“Ah, see! That right there, right there!” He said, grinning as if he’d found some lost treasure and pointing at him. “You’re doing it again! Trying to piss me off so I won’t talk to you because you know I care about you.”

“I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Why?” He asked. “It’s not like I have friends. Not like I talk to anyone other than you and now Belle.” He stayed quiet and Jefferson sat up. “Okay. I think you don’t want to talk about your feelings because every time you have it’s been thrown back in your face.”

Rumple looked up.

“See, I’m right, aren’t I?” He asked. “I know you couldn’t do that with me. I was a bit of fun and you were fun for me, I get that. But I still care about your well being and shit. I’ve also been around long enough to know you love that girl with all you got. And that woman loves you with all she’s got too. You’re everything to her and that freaks you out, doesn’t it?”

“It terrifies me,” he whispered, barely audible.

“Because you don’t know if it’s real.” Rumple nodded once. “I can see that it is. She’s not Cora. She’s not Milah, she’s not even me. She loves you, She wants to help you and she wants in. At least give her a chance.”

“I’ll hurt her. I’ll break her, I’ll ruin her, I know I will,” he whispered, glancing at him. “I wreck everything I touch. I already harmed her, what if it’s worse next time?”

Jefferson looked toward the door, then back at him. “I think it’s already worse.”

Rumple winced and pushed his hand through his hair. “I can never make the right choice,” he whispered. “I never do things right the first time and then it’s too late. I...I’m breaking her.”

“Then stop throwing your bullshit at her,” he said firmly. “Just talk to her. She wants to help you so let her help you.” He stood, pausing at the door. “You aren’t a coward, Rumplestiltskin, so don’t act like it, hm?”

Jefferson left and he stood as well, grabbing for his cane.

He limped down the hall, pausing in front of the door. She was still crying, and bitterly. He knocked lightly.

“Belle?” He said gently. She sniffed and quieted, but didn’t speak. “Belle, I… What I did was unforgivable. It was a low, manipulative thing to do. And I did it because I was afraid. That’s when I commit the most imbecilic crimes, when I’m afraid. I do things that make sense at the time, that I think will protect my heart, and your life. It was selfish and cowardly. And I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

From her spot next to the bed Belle sniffed and stood, wiping her eyes and opening the door to look up at him. “Don’t do that again,” she ordered tearfully.

He shook his head. “No one, especially me, should ever take away your agency, Belle. I swear to you now,” he took her hand gingerly, half expecting her to snatch it back. “I will never try to coerce your will again. I will not control you.”

Belle smiled a little. “If you do I’ll punch you right in your nose,” she nodded, teasing a little. He looked at the red rim around her eyes, the puffiness there. Yes, this was much worse than squeezing her hand too hard.

“Promise me, Rumple, that you’ll try and find the courage to let me in,” she pleaded softly, pressing her hand against his cheek. He nodded, swallowing. “I know it’s easier to just stop talking, but we can’t do this the easy way. It’ll...it’ll just fester inside of you. It’s okay to let it out.”

He nodded weakly again, looking small and horrifically guilty. “I’ll...I’ll try, Belle. It might, might take some time…”

“I know,” she assured. “I know, it’s alright. But trying to get rid of me and glamoring me is not.”

Rumple swallowed, almost wincing and shook his head. “It isn’t. It isn’t, I’m so sorry.”

Belle pulled him close, holding the back of his head. “I’m still mad at you,” she said softly. “But I’m here, alright? You’re stuck with me.”

He laughed a little, holding her close to him. “There are worse fates,” he breathed, kissing her hair.

Belle hooked her chin over his shoulder, that horrible image of his bound, naked body trembling under the lamplight echoing in her eyes. “I know there are.”

~*~

“Are you sure it’s alright for me to be here?” Belle asked, looking up at Jefferson, who nodded.

“You’ve been around the woman more recently than I have. You saw her house, you saw Rumple when we got him, you’re probably better to talk to than I am. Did you bring it?”

Belle took the journal out of her bag, holding it as if it were poisoned and nodded.

She put it back when Jefferson acknowledged it, sighing softly.

“Where’s Rumple?” He asked.

“Resting on the sofa,” she nodded, looking back toward the house, which was down the block from where they were. She wrung her hands, sitting at the picnic table in the little park, looking around.

“You trust this man?” She asked, looking up at him.

“I trust him enough to return the favor he owes me,” he nodded. “He’s never given me a reason not to either, so.” He shrugged a little. “He’s the best out there, and we’re getting absolutely nowhere on our own.”

“Doesn’t help that the Authority is holding us back,” she spat bitterly, crossing her arms.

“That’s what they do. Keep people from finding the answers they need and still playing the blame game,” he growled. His little girl was staked, she was dead, just a pile of mush and ribbons and he wasn’t allowed his revenge until they could better discern the situation.

He didn’t wait for their order. He ripped those men apart, devoured their blood and chewed their hearts to his own’s content. He was so satisfied his precious little girl had been avenged his imprisonment meant nothing to him. He went mad singing to her and talking to her in those cells, but he was sure he was better for it.

And certainly more interesting.

“They really like to put blame on those they deem unworthy,” he muttered, an edge to his tone.

Belle touched his arm and he relaxed a little. She had a habit of doing that with most everyone she was around, he’d found. Dissolving anger with a smile or a touch. No wonder Rumple loved her so much. She was a light in all this darkness, anyone could see that.

A car pulled up not far from them, a man stepping out and coming closer.

“About damn time,” Jefferson huffed.

Belle looked up at the man who walked up to them, watching him closely. Not too tall, short brown hair that curled around his temples where it had broken free in the wind, light brown eyes and a familiar set of dimples.

He was dressed in layers, a t-shirt, a gray hoodie and a coat, a bag slung over his shoulder. He grinned when he got closer.

“Jefferson,” René, smiled, speaking with an accent. He gave Jefferson a quick hug when he was close enough.

“You’re late,” the hatter remarked, still smiling.

“An’ who this pretty little thing here?” He asked, nodding to Belle, who smiled. “She smell way too good to be aroun’ animals like us, heh?”

Jefferson laughed a little. “This is Belle.”

“And I can take care of myself,” she smiled, nodding.

“Well, I’d hope she can, at least, she does belong to the king,” Jefferson added.

René’s eyes grew and he bowed a little. “Pardon, Miss Belle, for my unruly mout’,” he chuckled, grinning at her.

“No, it, it’s fine,” she shook her head, admittedly charmed.

He sat down across from them and they both settled again.

“Now,” René began, taking a notebook and a pen out of his bag. “Who’s’it y’all wan’ me lookin’ for?”

“Zelena West,” Belle said, growing somber once more.  

“An’ what she do?” He asked, eyes on his notebook.

“She kidnapped and...tortured Rumplestiltskin,” she said softly. “For two weeks.”

René looked up, brow knitted. “How’s a human woman keep a vampire like ‘at lock up for so long?”

“She was on V,” Jefferson explained. “For starters. She’d also been planning it for some time. She shot him outside his shop and he fell unconscious. Had him bound with silver in a storm cellar after that.”

“You tell th’ Authority ‘bout that?” He asked. “Cause I don’ wanna step on them toes ‘less I gotta, bein?”

“Do you think I would’ve hauled your ass all the way from Louisiana without doing something that ridiculously simple?” Jefferson laughed, lips pursed. “We’ve tried the Authority, we’ve tried human government and no one wants their name attached to this so they aren’t helping.”

“They’re accusing him of lying,” Belle said, eyes hard. “That he just ran off with her and is using this as an excuse so he doesn’t get in trouble for abandoning his post.”

René paused. “An’ you’re sure he didn’ do jus’ that, yeah?”

Belle drew herself up, looking a little distant. “I found him in that cellar. I found him collared, bloody, half out of his mind with silver shears driven into his leg. I found a broken man who’d been violated in every possible way and is likely never going to recover from what that woman did to him. Yes. I’m sure.”

René dropped his eyes again, a green tinge to his face and his hands were tensed on the notebook. A bit odd for a vampire to be squeamish. He swallowed and nodded, taking a sharp breath through his nose.

“What this woman look like?”

Belle described her, pushing the diary across the table to him once that was through. “This is hers. Jefferson said you’d need it for her scent.”

René picked it up, flipping idly through the pages. The woman’s scent was tart, almost acrid and stung his nostrils a bit. Too much vampire blood in her system, too much bitterness and hate. And he really didn’t care for cucumber lotion too much. It was a sharp contrast to the soft sweetness of Belle, whom he couldn’t believe wanted anything to do with Rumplestiltskin.

Maybe things were a bit different now.

He skimmed the pages, his eyes growing more concerned by the minute. “An’ you can’t find her nowhere?”

“The cellar she kept Rumple in has been emptied out,” Jefferson stated. “Other than that, she’s vanished. Can’t get a scent on her anywhere. Not me, not the wolves and the regular police can’t find her either.”

“Oh,” René chuckled a bit. “She gone rat. Scurried somewhere dark ‘n’ nasty so’s no one can find her. She gone somewhere people’d never believe she go. Once a person give up they dignity there ain’t nothin’ they won’t endure.”

Belle grimaced, trying to think of where that somewhere might be. She shook her head, looking at him helplessly.

“Hey, don’ fret now, Miss Belle,” he assured. “Ain’t yo’ job to find her, it’s mine. An’ I mean to in th’ next couple days, alright?”

She nodded, trying to smile but it was strained.

René tipped his head to them, tucking the book away and started back toward his car.

“See? Gonna be fine,” Jefferson promised, patting Belle’s shoulder. She stood, chewing the inside of her cheek.

“I hope so,” she nodded. She needed to get back and tell Rumple about what was going on, let him know it would be better soon, he could feel safe soon.

~*~

He sighed, leaning his head back on the seat, hands tightly holding onto the steering wheel. He didn’t know it was that bad. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d even give a shit about that.

Christ, why hadn’t that gone away? Why did that ache still exist, that panic that he wasn’t alright, that he might need him and he wasn’t there, why did it still matter to him?

He swallowed and started driving to the next town over to his motel room, just to avoid more of a risk of being seen.

He owed Jefferson a favor and he was going to fulfill that, he wouldn’t go back on his word.

But there was no way he was going to see his father.

 


	21. Getting Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin continues struggling through his trauma; The bounty hunter is entirely revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely ChosenofAshurha for his help this chap :D

He made himself sick.

Staring at the thin creature in the mirror, the pathetically waifish weakling that he was. His body didn’t feel like his anymore. His skin felt like a rotted, moldy scrap that had been thrashed to him and bound to his bones, scorched and tarnished, falling apart. He expected to see some remnant of her when he looked in the mirror but there never was.

Just echoes.

And the brand.

His expression was pulled taut in distaste and disdain, forcing himself to look, to understand that this was him and hideous as he was, vile as he had become he had to live with it. He had to deal with it. If he didn’t he’d keep lashing out at Belle, pushing her away, treating her like he did everyone else that didn’t matter and that wasn’t right.

Belle did matter, she mattered more than anything and he couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t let her go, he couldn’t do that.

This wiry frame he had to call his own had been shredded, beaten, broken and abused since he was born. His whole life, his long, grueling existence was nothing but pain. That hadn’t broken him. Not his father’s drunken beatings, not Milah’s sharp words and burning strike, not Baelfire’s death, not the cages, the silver, the beatings, every lash against his heart was nothing compared to this.

And he hated it.

He hated his body because she’d torn it apart for sport. He hated his body because it was a tangible thing she’d consumed that he couldn’t be rid of. He hated his body  because it was just a reminder that he was as powerless as he looked.

He clawed over the brand once, grunting in frustration with tears bloomed in his eyes. He hated it, he hated it, he hated-

“Shh…”

A soft, warm hand pressed over the brand, arms winding around his body. His breath caught, eyes falling closed in shame. Belle’s touch radiated into his bones, her thumb sliding over the brand, soothing the reddened welts his nails had left in it. Her head peeked over his shoulder as she embraced him, holding him against her.

The satin of her nightgown warmed by her skin pressed against his back, the smoothness of the fabric and her breasts so soft and warm against his skin.

He opened his eyes to look at her, watching a tiny smile bloom on her lips, eyes gentle.

“My handsome man,” she whispered, kissing up his shoulder to the nape of his neck. “You coming to bed, your highness?”

He smiled a little, one he couldn’t help, looking at that playful little grin she wore, lips pursed, her brows up in expectation.

“How could I deny you anything, Belle?” He grinned, turning and taking her waist, walking to bed with her.

He reached for his pajama shirt, eager to cover himself and hide so Belle didn’t see the phantom stains that had to decorate his skin when he wasn’t looking. There had to be some sign, Belle had to know, she had to.

She stopped him, placing her hands on his shoulders, kissing his neck with soft, warm kisses. He let out the softest of moans, eyes closing against her kisses. Her hands gently caressed his skin, kneading his muscles with the lightest scratches etched along his body that were immediately soothed by her fingertips.

A quiet gasp hitched in his throat, melting back against her. A groan turned into a quiet growl and he turned his head, eyes closed. His fangs appeared with the surge of desire that rocked him. Belle moaned in turn and let him capture her mouth with a deep kiss that pricked her lip and sent a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth.

He growled again, turning and pulling her close. His tongue curled against the droplet, catching it and ridding her fair skin of its remains. Belle shivered, her fingers wrapping into his hair.

Rumple took a moment to look at her, to appreciate all of her pure beauty, the breathlessness she had, the warmth in her cheeks, the absolute, pure adoration in her eyes.

He gently touched her cheek, forgetting his own reservations in his awe for her.

“Belle…” He whispered, kissing her again, deeper this time, his arms twining around her lithe body and holding her to him.

She returned the affection eagerly, sliding into his lap and kissing him repeatedly. He delicately held her back, his own hands careful, gentle.

Each touch Belle’s sure hands pressed to his skin left his body in a sort of shock. This was forgotten to him, that touch could be this good. That he could want Belle’s beautiful hands and her mouth and want her body so close to his. She felt incredible and she looked at him…

She looked at him with kind, adoring eyes, kissed him with loving lips, touched him with careful hands and more than anything on earth he wished to succumb to whatever she wanted.

Belle carefully pressed her hands on his shoulders, guiding him back onto the mattress. Her lips traveled along his clavicle, the hollow of his throat while trying to feel all of him that she could. She urged his hands on her nightgown to lift it off, smiling almost shyly at him when he did.

He stared up at her, ignoring the tightness growing in his chest. He cupped her breasts, letting his fingertips slip along her velvet skin greedily. He sat up a little, kissing her stomach and her chest, resting his face where he could clearly hear her heartbeat and drink in her warmth.

“Rumple,” Belle moaned, her hair falling down around her, framing the sculpture of her body. He nearly wept for looking at her.

She guided him back down again with her kisses, urging him to relax while she took care of him.

It took her a moment to see it.

The edge of panic in his eyes, how tense his breaths had become, how he had started to shake.

“Rumple?”

His gaze began to grow distant, away from her, somewhere else, shifting between blurred reality and memory, utterly confused. And more urgently, scared.

“Hey,” she whispered, holding his face. “Hey, hey, hey, Rumple, it’s okay. It’s-”

He grabbed her arms, firmly but not hard enough to bruise her, pulling them so she wasn’t touching him and sat up, looking around the room again, his tremors getting worse. He shook his head, slowly curling into her body, shaking his head.

“I-I can’t,” he trembled, his nose brushing against her skin just to remember it was her. “I-I’m so sorry, Belle, I’m- Please, forgive me, I can’t, I can’t do it. I’m scared, I don’t- Fuck...”

He slumped against her, a sharp sob coming from his throat. On top of everything else he couldn’t even make love to the woman he cared for. Too big a coward to even manage that. What a sorry excuse for a man, he was, a despicably pathetic nothing, a worthless-

“Shh…” Belle’s kiss was more grounding than any sensation he’d experienced. One press of her lips to the center of his forehead and he was there with her again. Her warm body in his arms, the soft bedspread underneath him, the dim light of the room. His bedroom- Their bedroom.

Where they were safe.

She smoothed his hair back and thumbed the tears from his eyes, that patient, loving smile in place. “You’ve nothing to apologize for,” she whispered. “If you aren’t ready? If you don’t feel safe, then we aren’t going to have sex. Alright?”

“It isn’t fair to you,” he whispered.

“It’s not about that,” she said firmly, brows knitted. “There is no ‘fair’ in that, Rumple, it’s about safety. Security. It’s about your consent, and if you can’t give it? Then we don’t do a thing.” She kissed his temple. “We don’t have to make love, Rumple, that’s not a requirement for our relationship. It’s nice, sure,” she smiled. “But it’s not a necessity. You being comfortable, however, is. No ifs ands or buts about it, sir. Understand?”

He nodded, hugging her tight. He listened to her breaths, her heart, the rhythmic static of her blood moving through her. He sighed contentedly as she pet his hair back to soothe him, gently running his fingertips up and down her back, whispering an apology when she shivered.

She shushed him again, smoothing his hair back and humming gently to him, a lullaby her mother sang to her.

He lied down again, resting his head against her stomach, listening.

He glanced up at her after awhile. “Why won’t she go away?”

“She will,” Belle promised. “It’ll just take time. We’re looking, sweetheart, and once we find her and she’s locked away it’ll get easier. I swear it’ll get easier.”

“Hasn’t so far,” he whispered, not meeting her eyes. “In...certain moments I think it has. I’m better sometimes, I…”

Belle touched his chin, looking down at him. “When my mother passed, I was a mess. Constantly, I cried so much and everything was… horrible to look at. And as time went on, I was okay sometimes, then often, then I was pretty alright almost all the time. It took a year or so. It’s okay to not be okay, Rumple. I’m not going to force you to be okay.”

He blinked at her, softening. “I don’t want to be your burden, Belle.”

She kissed his forehead. “You’re the love of my life, Rumple, not a burden. Alright?”

He nodded shyly. “Thank you,” he whispered.  Belle moved to kiss his lips, and harsh voices rose outside. She frowned, looking toward the window and stood.

“What is it?” He asked, sitting up.

“I’m...not sure-”

A body flew into the side of a car, causing it to buckle and Rumple was up, grabbing a robe and limping downstairs, Belle doing the same.

Rumple shoved the door open, the porch light flooding the lawn and all that were standing there. “What the hell is going on?!”

~*~

Check in. That’s what Jefferson asked him to do. Just a daily little check in that could be done over the phone if he really wanted, but Jefferson insisted talking to him in person today. In front of his father’s house.

He could risk it, even if it was just this once, it would be fine. He hoped. Honestly Jefferson had done that pouty thing and batted his eyes at him to get him there and it worked, damn him. He doubted anyone could really say no to that face.

He pulled up to Rumplestiltskin’s house, well aware the Dark One had been reclusive later, pulled away from the world, hidden away to… to heal. He ignored any feeling beyond assurance this would be alright.

He stepped out of the car, walking up to Jefferson, who was leaning on the porch, arms delicately folded across his chest.

“Don’ look to happy to see me, cher,” René coaxed, trying to get a smile from the handsome hatter, who gave in a little.

“There’s no witch with you, so I’m not going to be too elated,” he confessed.

René scoffed and his smile got bigger, as did his dimples. “It been one whole day an’ you already mad at me? Coulda swore you thought more of me.”

Jefferson relaxed a touch, smile coming easier.

“Sorry, I...I want this to be over. He’s suffered enough, you know?” He offered. “Once she’s gone he...he can rest easier. Heal.”

“Still care about ‘im, uh?” He said, looking over at him, smile faltering.

“I mean, he is the king, that helps.”

“I respec’ my royalty as much as th’ next vampire, don’ mean I’m gon’ stand outside they house every nigh’ without bein’ paid for it.”

“He’s my friend,” Jefferson chuckled. “Someone so devilishly handsome deserves to be preserved, doesn’t he?” He giggled and René pursed his lips.

“I’ll take yo’ word for it. Trust you, though. You’d be th’ ‘thority on that,” he snickered. “Don’ mean no offense, though, promise. Jus’ curious.”

Jefferson chuckled. “Is that how you do your job? Curiosity?”

He shrugged. “Got a good nose, too.”

“Ooh, proper bloodhound, hm?” Jefferson asked platfully. René snickered and shook his head.

“You really are crazy, you know that?” He teased.

Jefferson slipped off the porch to get closer to him, smile wide. “So, what’d you find?” He asked. “If anything.”

“Glamored half the damn town and they ain’t seen ‘er. Every wolf I talk to got somethin’ to say ‘bout loyalty to The Dark One an’ all the vamps say they ain’t stupid enough t’ cross ‘im.”

“And you believe them?”

René chuckled. “They call me th’ bes’ for a reason. I know a liar when I see one, an’ they tellin’ the truth. Kinda impressive, the followin’ Th’ Dark One got himself. Subjects too damn scared t’ hide this lady from him.”

“Good start, I guess,” he sighed, scratching at his stubble.

“You guess,” he snorted. “Further ‘n you got, huh?” He smiled, pushing his shoulder playfully.

“Oh...you are so lucky you’re pretty,” Jefferson chuckled, catching René’s hand. “It’s the accent, just remember that. I like this one. Sexier than some of the other ones you’ve had.” René rolled his eyes and Jefferson winked. “Thank you for your help, by the way. Call me-”

The squeal of tires around the corner caused them both to look up, watching the big black car fly into the driveway.

“Who’s this?” René asked, frowning. Jefferson groaned audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That would be The Dark One’s progeny,” he sighed.

René froze, his eyes widening a little and he started for his car. “Should get outta here then before-”

The door flew open and René's nostrils flared, his body tensing in defense when he turned around. Jefferson glanced at him, his own motions still fluid as Killian stormed closer to the both of them.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?!” He demanded. Jefferson glanced at René.

“Aw, they want to talk to us,” he said.

“I’m not here for you,” Killian snarled, pointing his hook at René, who glowered deeper. “Who the hell are you?”

“Just a touch more civil, Killian,” Cora advised, her own glare set on René.

“Th’ only one doin’ a damn thing to help yo’ maker,” he smirked. “Case you didn’ notice, he kinda needs ‘er found.”

“Did you hire him, then?” Killian barked, looking over at the hatter.

Jefferson sighed and rolled his eyes again, looking weary. “Did you all have a meeting to decide that you actually give a damn?”

“You don’t get to make decisions about who does what for our maker because you used to fuck him!” Killian barked, hook tensed beside him, taking a step closer to them. René growled and put himself between them.

“An’ maybe if you knew anythin’ about anythin’ you’d know me bein’ here is yo’ best bet in givin’ him some damn peace!” He growled.

“A backwood hunter standing around in a yard. Thank god you’re here,” Regina sighed, hands on her hips.

“You’ve all been nothing but selfish, petty and useless this entire time, why the fuck would I even bother consulting you on anything?! Belle and I are the only-”

“Just because you’re near him doesn’t mean you’re alone in caring,” Cora cut in.

“You’re the last person that gets to say something like that,” Jefferson laughed, shaking his head at her.

“If that’s all you wan’ from me, and the yellin’s all done I’m gonna go home,” René smirked, containing his rage and turning from them.

“I’m not through with you!” Killian grabbed René's  shoulder, and was immediately flung into the side of his car, denting the heavy black door with a sharp snarl.

Killian had seconds to recover before the lights and the siren flare of a police car kicked on. It skidded to a halt and Emma stepped out, one hand on her holster.

“Hey!” she barked, looking around the yard. “Relax, everyone relax!”

“Emma, it’s alright, just a misunderstanding,” Jefferson smiled. “Little tiff, that’s all.”

“Vampire tiffs can level houses, I know better, you all need-”

“Get him the hell out of here, he started this!” Killian spat, glaring at René, who pointedly looked away.  

“I don’t give a damn, everyone that isn’t currently living here, leave!” She ordered.

“Absolutely not,” Regina scoffed. “We’ve every right to be here.”

“You’ve been banned how many times, exactly?” Jefferson demanded.

“Go to hell!” Regina growled, fangs bared.

Jefferson’s mirrored hers. “Already there, sweet cheeks.”

“Sweet-?!”

“What the hell is going on?!”

Any color left in René's  face when the lawn bloomed with light.

Emma’s eyes grew, her shoulders going slack, looking at the bounty hunter and shaking her head a little.

Rumplestiltskin froze mid-step, his breaths paused, his lips shaking minutely.

“Rumple?” Belle said softly, touching his shoulder.

He shook his head, locking eyes with the other vampire. _“Bae?”_

“Neal?” Emma blurted, looking at the king in further confusion.

Jefferson covered his mouth, Killian looked away and Belle’s brows came together, still touching her vampire as she looked between everyone and finally put her eyes on him too.

“I...I thought your name was René?”

 


	22. Baelfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The child of the Dark One's life, and afterlife, is revealed.

His father had become a monster. Overnight, it seemed, the gentle spinner had become a weaponized nightmare, hell bent on bloodthirsty malice and destruction. Baelfire would learn much later that his papa showed more restraint and resistance to the curse than  most vampires could ever accomplish, but in the eyes of a fourteen year old boy, his father gave in too much.

He indulged in blood far too much, relished in the fear of his victims and earned a reputation of ferocity and ambiguity in their village. Once the estate was acquired it became legend that any who entered would disappear forever.  

Keeping his secret was all but impossible, and anyone that may have the faintest inkling  of knowing the truth was slaughtered, including a mute maid Baelfire had come to like.

“How could she possibly tell anyone?!” He demanded.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “She could have written it down!”

“And she could have kept it secret!”

“Bae, people who keep secrets for someone they don’t care about do it for extortion. Is that what you wanted her to do to us?” He asked.

“You don’t know that that would have happened,” he huffed, shaking his head at him.

“And you don’t know it wouldn’t have, do you, son?” He asked, wiping blood from his lips. “You have to trust that I’m doing what’s best for you, Bae. What’s best for us. You do trust me, don’t you?”

The boy had lied and told Papa he did. How could he trust him when he was so unpredictable with people? How could he when he’d seen him kill over the smallest reasons, the most wild of paranoid episodes? He couldn’t trust someone whose entire livelihood was driven by the strong desire to quench a thirst that would never go away.

Paranoid, hungry and cruel.  That's what his father had become. A terror to the countryside, a murderer and a fiend.

It didn't make him a bad father.

He always attentive. Always in tune to Baelfire’s wants and needs and was always there if he needed him. He was never in any danger, never went wanting for anything, was given the best schooling and care that anyone could provide for their child. He did his best to make sure he had friends, people to talk to that weren’t him, even if he was afraid of someone taking him away. Papa was always so afraid that Baelfire was going to leave forever and never see him again. But at least that meant he was always there. He listened, he cared with all his heart. In the beginning, he’d even tried to adhere to Bae’s requests about who he fed on.

He tried to get him to eat from animals but Papa claimed it didn't help. He tried getting him to only feed from people who wanted it, but he said it was impossible.

He did talk him into glamoring everyone he fed from, made him promise to keep innocent victims alive. However he and his father had different ideas of what innocent meant.

He thought about leaving. Constantly toying with the idea whenever the stress of his father’s existence wore on him. However, he knew how heartbroken his father would be if he vanished. The whole reason Papa took the curse in the first place was for him. To save him from a war he would have died within minutes of fighting in. His father had taken on this horrible thing he didn't understand,  all for him.

It was still difficult for a young boy not to resent him for it, for the hunger and monstrosity he exuded. He loved his father, truly he did but… He had his limits, and constantly they were pushed.  

The moment he had the chance, the moment he was grown, he left. He took the money Papa insisted he take and left. He had his own life, working as a deckhand on ships, making enough to keep the modest house in a quiet village that had only heard whispers of Rumplestiltskin’s terror. In a few years he married a beautiful woman and even had the wedding at night so his father could be there.

How happy he had looked, how proud and reserved he had been. His charming, doting father once more. It was easy to forget the curse he held, at least for the night. And he was appreciative of that.

But things were better away from him. He hated to admit it, but it was true. His father's monstrosity grew worse while he was away, turned more violent, more frightening and the intricacies of what he did was so horrible he stopped listening to any news given.  

He got sick before he and his wife could have a child.

He'd no idea how or why, what caused it, but his father begged him over and over to let him turn him. He begged him on his knees with tears in his tortured eyes to let him spare him.

“Bae, please,” he whispered, knelt beside his bed. “I can save you, son, I can make this stop in a moment, please. Please, just let me.”

Baelfire had seen what Papa's bite could do. The hooked man he'd created was testament enough to what foul things happened when a person was bitten by one so dark. He'd seen what the bite had done to his father and it wasn't a fate he wanted for himself.

His father looked so frightened, an echo of the broken man he had once been, still so tortured and pained. He gently took his hand, squeezing tight and looking at him steadily. “It’s okay, Papa. It’s alright, I’m ready.”

“You can’t be!” He pleaded. “You’re too young, Bae, you can’t be ready to die, not now!”

“I lived a hell of a lot longer than I would have if you didn’t save me,” he said quietly, trying to smile through the horrible pain in his chest, trying to see him through the veil of fever and his own tears. “It’s okay, Papa. It’s okay to let me go.”

It broke him to tear his father apart like that, but he saw no other option.

Papa clung to his hand and wept, stayed right there for days even when the sun filtered in and burned his skin. It took an emergency to drag him away, and they both knew he might not make it back to see him again.

“I love you, son,” he breathed, kissing the back of Baelfire’s hand.

He swallowed. “I love you too, Papa.”

He watched crimson slip down his father’s cheeks for the moment he lingered, watched him force himself to smile at him before he left. Baelfire had made a choice, and Papa had honored his decision. It was the best thing he could allow his boy. A choice.

Until the choice was stolen from him.

~*~

Rumplestiltskin stood there shaking His son, his boy, the first light to illuminate his life was standing right in front of him, alive. In a sense, anyway. He hadn’t aged a day since he last saw him, though he did look much better. The paleness and sickly nature was gone, replacing the horrific last image he had of his son with the lightly battered look of this man in front of him.

Baelfire turned his eyes up to Rumple, his own ashamed. “Hi, Papa,” he said, dropping the fake accent he’d used before. He looked over at Emma and smiled at her too. “You’re a cop?”

“Don’t,” she grunted, shaking her head. “Don’t you- Smile at me like that, don’t.”

“Emma-”

“No!”

She turned on her heel and stalked back toward her car, glaring back at him once before she got inside peeled out of the driveway, hurtling down the road away from them.

He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face, looking back toward his father in time to catch him in an embrace, clinging to him.

Rumple had moved without thinking and wrapped his arms around him, holding the back of his head and holding him as tight as he could.

It was too much. After everything that happened, everything bombarding his overwrought mind this was not something he foresaw handling very well.

But his son was here. Baelfire was here in his arms and he wasn’t imagining it. He wasn’t seeing things, he wasn’t the hallucination he’d often had of his boy, he was real. He was here.

He was vampire.

Belle had walked down to Jefferson, so lost  and shaking her head. “I don’t understand,” she said softly, looking up at him. “I thought- He told me his son was…”

Jefferson opened his mouth to speak when Rumple quite suddenly addressed him.

“Did you know?” He growled, letting go of his child, his dark and murderous eyes on the hatter. “Did you know and keep this from me, Jefferson?”

“Rumplestiltskin, don’t talk to me like that,” Jefferson said coolly, stiff and looking back at him. “I met him a hundred years ago and he’s had about ten names in that time, okay? I had no idea who he was, not one clue. If I did, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”

“How is this even possible?” Regina asked loudly.

Rumple looked at his child helplessly, shaking his head. “How? Bae, how are you here?” He said gently.

“It...it’s complicated,” he said quietly, looking back at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you find me?”

“I couldn’t,” he confessed. “And after awhile, I...I didn’t want to.”

Belle winced, watching the words hit her vampire like a slap to the face. His wounded heart could only take so much right now.

“That still doesn’t explain anything,” Cora reminded. “You’ve been dead since before any of us were born.”

A realization dawned in Rumple’s eyes, and Baelfire saw it. He nodded once to his father, watching his dark eyes turn black with hate.

Rumple turned around, eyes falling on Killian. “Not all of you.”

~*~

Lying in bed, gagging on blood and so close to death he could feel it brushing against his fingertips, he knew he wouldn’t be here much longer. Time would kill him now, and it was closing in so fast. He was so cold, his vision shadowed and closing in fast. Soon, it would be so soon.

He could feel his breaths growing weaker,  like a countdown of when he would pass. So close he could even imagine the lights of heaven coming to take him, the warm arms of his mother long since drowned coming to embrace him and take him away.

But the strong scent of rum and blood pulled him out of the daydream, and he looked up at the hooked man his father had made. The vampire always dripping with hatred and disdain, who killed more indiscriminately and viciously than his father had.

His stomach lurched and he jerked weakly over the bed, vomiting over the man’s boots. A satisfied little smile washed over him, remembering the women he’d bragged about harming and he glared up at him, spitting out some blood.

“Tell Papa the answer is still no,” he rasped. “And let me die in peace.”

The pirate, Killian, shook his head, a dark look in his violent eyes and he grinned. “I'm not here on his behalf, I'm afraid,” he said, kneeling beside him. “I’m here to give you something.”

Baelfire grimaced. “I don’t want it.”

“How do you know you don’t want it if I haven’t even told you what it is?” He chuckled, cocking his head and leaning into his personal space. “See, you bastard father took something very important to me. And I can’t ever get it back. Took it from you too, incidentally.”

He frowned. “Stop with, with the riddles, I don’t really have time for this,” he grunted, coughing, droplets of blood spattering his lips. Killian inhaled sharply but kept himself from biting him. He rolled up his sleeve, showing the man his tattoo.

“My...my mother?”

“She left your pathetic father for me,” he chuckled. “Left him for a real man, see. I took her away on my ship, to give her the life she wanted-”

“She _abandoned_ me?” He glared at him, shaking his head. “You, you let her leave, you let her abandon her child and-”

“The Crocodile had his chance to save her!” He barked, pressing the tip of his hook against Baelfire’s throat, but the dying man hardly flinched. “He could’ve fought for her and he didn’t!”

“Did you threaten him like this?” He asked, glancing at the hook. “Make him really fight? Did you try and make my mortal, disabled father fight you for my mother and make him think she was gonna die? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Killian snarled. “He killed her. When you were still a boy, after the coward got his teeth, then he killed her.” Baelfire’s smirk faded. “Right in front of me. Don’t spout off like your father’s anything close to honorable!”

“I’ll talk about him how ever I want,” he defended, his insides tight for more than one reason now. Papa killed Mom. He...he killed her because… He knew why. It wouldn’t be for the selfish reason, because she left him, that wouldn’t be why he did it. “He killed her because she left me.”

“The bastard took her from me, then cursed me to live forever without her!” He grabbed Baelfire by his throat, grinning at him, fangs out. “I’m going to return the favor.”

“Wait. Wait, don’t-!”

Killian sank his teeth into his vulnerable flesh, and he could do nothing to fight back. Weak shoves that only grew weaker with each passing second and he’d no voice to scream.

Everything went dark. And when he woke again he was in his own grave with Killian looming over him, also covered in dirt and grinning. “How’s it feel?”

He felt...strong. The sickness had utterly vanished from his body and he felt as if nothing could touch him ever again. But the _thirst._ It was so strong, so consuming he couldn’t think.

And Killian let him drain an entire village before bothering to stop him.

He felt sick when he’d realized what he’d done. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!?” He bellowed. “What kind of monster did you turn me into?!”

“The same as your father!” Killian laughed. “The same as me. Now, I can’t have you following me around, now can I?” He growled, grabbing Baelfire and pulling him closer. “As your maker, I command you to not speak to your father for at least a century.”

The order was ingrained in him, something he couldn’t disobey even if he wanted to, and he did. “You can’t-”

“I just did,” he chuckled. “And as your maker, if we are ever to see each other, you cannot tell a soul who I am to you, understand?”

He nodded, loathing the way he felt about him, hating himself for wanting to obey him so blindly without question.

“Do not look for me, do not try to find me. I don’t want you for my progeny. If I see you again, I will pretend not to know you. You’re nothing and no one to me, and you will behave as such, is that clear?” He nodded once, again, obeying. “I want you as a tool to hurt your father when the time comes, do you understand?” Killian asked, a cruel glint in his eyes.

“You...you’re leaving?” He asked, staring at him, a sudden panic gripping his chest that he hated, he hated feeling like this. He stole so much from him, took his humanity away, took his chance at death away, his choice...and now he was this, this thing and he was just going to abandon him here like that.

Killian laughed and turned. “Have a good afterlife, love!”

And he stood there, knowing nothing but hunger, nothing about what he could do, what anything meant, what he should do. He learned things from his father and even now it was hard to recall them. But he was abandoned.

Until now.

~*~

“You turned him,” Rumple growled, glaring at him and dropping the cane. Killian swallowed and took a step back, keeping his chin out.

“I told you I would have my revenge on you,” he said stiffly. Cora and Regina took several steps back, away and out of the line of fire.

“On _ME!”_ He bellowed. “Not my son, not my _child!”_ He stalked toward him, his fangs bared in a snarl. He grabbed Killian by the throat and slammed him against his damaged car.

“Papa, stop!” Neal ran to them, grabbing his arm and pulling him back and off of him.

Rumple stared at him, face contorted with rage. “Bae, he-”

“He’s my maker!” He said helplessly, turning to Killian with an agonized look. “I can’t...Papa, I can’t.”

Killian smirked at him over Neal’s shoulder and Rumple snarled, taking a step forward but his leg buckled, the cane out of reach.

Belle rushed forward and caught him, steadying him and pushing the cane into his hand, her own eyes hard and resting on Killian.

Baelfire bowed his head, utterly ashamed of himself. “I couldn’t look for you,” he whispered. “He told me I couldn’t. By the time I wanted to it was...a century later and it would’ve been too hard. I moved around, led different lives, took different names. I kept Neal the longest, I like that one, it’s mine. I picked it. I...I started the bounty hunter thing to help people find who they were looking for, and...Jefferson and I happened to know each other and...he said you needed help, how could I not come up here? I had to help you. But I can’t...I can’t let you kill him, I can’t.”

Rumple looked at his son, the torment in his eyes, his sweet boy who wanted peace and he gave it to him. And the pirate took it away. Belle looked up at him, then back at Bae- at Neal.

“This, this isn’t what I wanted for you,” Rumple said softly. “I never wanted you to live the life I did, I want you to be happy, I… If I’d known…”

“I know,” he whispered, looking up at him. “I know, Papa, it’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Killian smirked, putting a hand on Neal’s shoulder. “Not to worry. I’ll take care of him.”

Neal jerked away, backing up toward Rumple, shaking his head. “You deserted me,” he breathed. “You left me to figure everything out by myself, you were the most absent, horrific maker I’ve ever fucking seen, and being saddled to you, knowing I have to do what you say, is the worst fucking part about this goddamn curse!”

“Release him,” Rumple growled, eyes flicking back to Killian and he limped forward. “As your maker, I command you release my son.”

“You can’t do that,” Killian snarled.

“And yet, you’re going to obey me, aren’t you?” He growled. “Release my child or I’ll release you instead.”

Neal looked so torn, so hopeful but devastated all at once and if it weren’t for Belle holding his hand Rumple looked ready to shake apart.

Killian swallowed hard and looked toward the boy he’d ruined. “Baelfire. As your maker...I release you.”

His heart cracked, severing that bond and it hurt so much, but he was so relieved. At least he was free.

Killian turned his eyes back to his own maker, absolutely furious.

Rumple raised his hand, pointing down the road. “Go.”

Killian frowned, following his hand and shook his head. “‘Go’?” He repeated, staring at him.

Rumple nodded once. “Get the hell out of my sight and get away from me, now. Do not come back.”

He looked afraid now, staring toward the road. The pirate shook his head a little. “I don’t understand-”

A fist rammed into his jaw and he staggered back, snarling at Neal, his fangs out. Neal snarled right back at him, tensed and ready to tear him apart if he moved anywhere near them. “You heard him,” he spat. “You heard him, go.”

“Your highness,” Cora began. “Isn’t that-”

“Don’t,” Regina said quietly, touching her mother’s shoulder, eyes hard. “Or you’ll go with him.”

The Dark One didn’t even watch the pirate leave. He turned back toward his house, delicately taking Belle by the waist and walking her inside with him.

“Bae,” he said gently looking back at him. “Would you like to come inside?”

Neal softened and followed him, smiling a little at Jefferson, who joined them as well. “You really should’ve told me you were his son,” he muttered, looking at him.

“Why?” He asked, his smile tired and worn.

The hatter scoffed. “Because half of that night in Tahiti wouldn’t have happened!”

Ahead of them inside the house, Belle started giggling.

 


	23. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple makes a breakthrough in more than one relationship.

They talked for hours.

Belle sat in their room, on the floor, her head on the side of the bed while she waited restlessly, unsure what exactly she was waiting for. Yelling, perhaps, or screaming, but no such thing happened. Rumple’s low voice rumbled in the walls around her, Neal’s joining in turn.

So much had happened in such a small amount of time, and she worried for Rumple. Worried for his mind, for his capability to hold it all together. His heart couldn’t take all of this. He couldn’t deal with so much trauma and torment at once. No one could possibly hold this all in and be well.

She had to remind herself that Rumple was stronger than anyone she’d ever met. Stronger than he looked, stronger than Killian or anyone gave him credit for. He survived Zelena and kept most of his sanity, that had to count for something. His life had been bursting with pain and at least this agony could be lifted.

But was it worse that Neal was alive? Was it worse that he spent hundreds of years apart from him, thinking he was gone and he’d been wandering the earth alone without anyone. Without his father, without his maker, just...alone?

Belle anticipated guilt, whirled around in her mind the different things he might say or do, trying to anticipate that. She’d nothing else to do but let her mind wander to the worst of things.

Like Neal leaving again out of resentment for his father. Oh, it would crush him, it would shatter him, there would be no coming back from that. Belle shuddered at the thought and closed her eyes, straining her ears for a change in tone, for something catastrophic to happen. It seemed to be the theme of things lately, it was only a matter of time, right?

Eventually their talking lulled her into a light sleep, vaguely wondering if Jefferson was still in the house or outside. She’d no idea what time it was, if the sun was up or down or…

She startled awake when something cold touched her skin.

“Shh, you were on the floor,” Rumple said, gently hugging her to his chest while he sat on the bed. His cold hands touched her shoulders, her bare legs hooked over his other arm. She nestled into his lap, her nightgown riding up her thighs a little. Rumple’s lips brushed against her hair, cheek resting there, holding her. She leaned up a little, her arms twining around his neck to hold him back. Belle could feel the tension in his shoulders, the wound up fatigue and pain echoing in his muscles. The raw need in his touch was palpable. She turned her face into his neck, pressing soft kisses there. “Are you alright?” She asked gently.

He laughed a little, turning his face into her hair to breathe easier. Her warmth, her heartbeat and her voice soothed his abraded heart. “It seems whenever I attempt to take a step forward, something always comes to force me back to where I started. I can’t get ahead of it. I can’t fight against it, I’m forced to yield to whatever it is, Belle. I feel trapped and...helpless. I can’t take much more of this.”

“Did, did he leave?” She whispered.

“The house, yes,” Rumple nodded. “Went back to his hotel room, since I only have two light-tight spaces. He likes having his own. Somewhere to call his. I understand that.” He still hadn’t let her go. He was rubbing Belle’s back, breathing in the scent of her skin.

“He’ll be back tomorrow. After he looks for, for her,” he continued. “He’s so different now.”

“It’s been a long time,” she reminded, petting his hair. “You both need time to remember each other and get used to the men you’ve become. You’ve both changed.”

“I haven’t,” he retorted almost immediately. “I’m...I’m still the man I was, Belle, despite everything you say, I haven’t changed. I’m still a monster.” Belle looked at him now, her brows creased sadly. She shook her head.

“You have changed. I can see it. I can see the goodness in you, Rumple. I’ve always seen it,” she pressed. “And Neal must too. Even if he doesn’t trust it right now, it’ll be obvious, Rumple. He loves you.”

He shut his eyes briefly. “I love him too. With all my heart. I never thought I’d see my boy again and he’s here. But I...I’m afraid. There’s so much I’m afraid of, Belle. What if She finds out? If She knows he’s my son, do you know what she’ll do to him? It’ll be worse, she’ll do worse, I can’t let her hurt my child, I can’t…” He was trembling, his breaths short and tight, rambling as Belle’s thoughts had been earlier.

“Shh, shh, hey.” She lowered her gaze to look at him better, holding his chin. “She won’t. You can’t think like that, Rumple. You can’t think she’s going to find that out. You have your son back, Rumple. You have him back and you have another chance to do better for him. And you can. I know you can. You can’t think that witch will ruin it.”

“She ruined nearly everything else,” he said brokenly, the words gushing from him like bile he desperately wanted out of him. “She invaded everything, Belle, every part of me and to not think about her is like...it’s like making an effort not to blink. I can’t…I can’t, but I keep trying. I promise I am.”

“It’s not for my sake,” she pleaded, touching his cheek. “Oh, Rumple, I don’t want you to get better for my sake. I want you to get better for yours. And there’s not a time limit on it. There isn’t an allotted time for you to heal, alright?” Belle hugged him again. “Please, Rumple, you aren’t a burden.”

“Everyone thinks I’m weak and they’re-”

“Wrong. They’re wrong, Rumple.” She kept holding him, and he held her back in all his desperation, as if attempting to absorb her words and sear them into his bones simply by embracing her. “You aren’t weak,” she whispered, tears in her voice. “You aren’t weak. Think of all you’ve been through. All you’ve accomplished. You’ve done so much, survived so much. You can get through this. You have help this time, you aren’t alone.”

“I don’t want to hold you back,” he hissed. “I don’t want to be time wasted for you, Belle.”

“If I thought that, would I be here?” She asked, not really looking for an answer. “I love you. I’m here, for all my life I’m here. I could never love someone as I love you, it isn’t possible.”

He sniffed and hid his face again. “Why me? Why do you love me, Belle?”

She closed her eyes, realizing he still didn’t believe her. Belle pressed closer to him, expression pained. “Your kindness. Your smile. Your sincerity. Your eloquence. Your passion, your ambition. Your eyes. Your hands. Your brilliance. Your touch. Your voice. You’ve so much love to give, and I can feel it, Rumple. I feel it radiate from you. When you kiss me. When you look at me or hold me or say my name. I feel your love and I can’t help but return it. I’m helpless to my heart, to you. That’s why I love you, Rumple. There’s thousands more reasons, of course, but I love you because I can’t stop myself from doing so.”

She felt his tears on her skin, felt the tremors in his body. Belle said nothing more, only lifted his face and pressed the softest of kisses to his lips and his cheeks. His bloody tears were wiped away by tender hands.

He sought her lips with his own, twining his arms around Belle and lying on the bed with her. He hovered above her, his hair around his face, eyes brimming with disbelief.

She looked up at him, caressing his cheek and smiling a little, letting out a quiet moan when he kissed her again. His large hands traveled down the sides of her nightgown, her shapely legs brushing against the robe he still wore as she parted them, to bring him closer to her.

Delicately he touched them, the pads of his fingertips grazing along her soft thighs, massaging the back of her knees while he kissed her lips pink. She let out a breathy moan against them, flushing a little.

“Rumple?”

“I’m alright,” he promised, speaking softly, relaxing the more he kissed her. Something had eased him enough to open up to her a little more, to feel safer with her. He tugged off his robe, fingers trailing down her calves to her ankles. He pushed her nightgown up to her hips, pressing his face into her thighs and kissing higher the more the satin retreated.

Belle was panting, watching him, not wanting to push him or make him uneasy. But she didn’t hold back the sounds he caused her to make.

She reached for him, delicately twining her fingers in his hair. Belle wanted him to feel nothing but relaxed with her, safe here in this little bubble of this world. Their world.

Soft kisses were left on the joint of her hip and her thigh, his lips ghosting over her panties. Belle looked into his eyes, watching him drag his tongue between her lips through the cloth in slow, tender motions. His hands sought hers, thumbs gently caressing the inside of her wrists, his eyes only closing when she moaned, relishing the sound.

He suckled her through the thin silk, humming against her the louder she moaned. Rumple growled, his fangs peeking over his lips. Belle trembled, feeling them through the fabric as well. Her legs shook, a flush working over her skin, watching him. “Rumple, Rumple…”

His arms slid under her thighs, hooking them over his shoulders, gently massaging her hips, encouraging her to move them. He wanted her to feel good, he wanted to show her what she meant to him, what everything she’d done meant to him and he could hardly express it in words. Lost in her taste, in the subtle quaking of her body, he hoped she understood that. He licked along her lips, which were barely peeking from the wet fabric, ducking his tongue under the lace to tease her more. Belle arched and called his name, breasts heaving and flushed as her face.

Her beauty was unparalleled, kindness overflowing and beautiful. She was much too gorgeous, too precious and pure for him. He doubted he would ever change his mind to that fact. He couldn’t help himself, kissing her and holding her, cherishing her. And at this particular moment, worshipping her.

It wasn’t long before Belle was thrusting into his face in earnest, calling his name in desperation, her thighs tense and quaking until finally she came with a grunt.

Rumple slid back up her body, caressing her pliant limbs and smiling softly as she caught her breath. She cupped the back of his neck, leaning up and kissing him deeply.

He groaned, tasting blood as his fangs cut her lip, which he greedily drank back up, feeling her body shiver with interest.

Her hands rested on the waistband of his pajama pants, slowly, cautiously working them down. He let her, helped her, now in his T-shirt and his underwear, holding her a little tighter. He looked down at her, watching her kind eyes register his expression. “Shh…” She breathed, slipping her arms out of the gown and pushing it off of her entirely. He let out a helpless groan, leaning down to kiss and nibble her perfect breasts, still holding her close. Belle let out gasps and little hiccupping moans and he managed to smile a little, looking up at her again.

“Don’t look so smug,” Belle giggled, bumping his forehead with hers.

He chuckled. “I can’t be happy that I’m pleasuring my girl?” He breathed, hovering over her lips. She smiled a little more.

“You certainly can, so long as you keep, keep doing that,” she swallowed, starry eyed and so happy. He kissed her, lying her back on the pillows again. He took one of the smaller ones and eased it under her hips, going to remove the last of his clothing and…

He stopped, the waistband in his hands, trying not to shake. It was alright, everything was alright. He was safe, he could take these off, he could take off his shirt and be naked and Belle would be too and everything would be fine.

But...but he couldn’t. He started trembling despite his efforts, staring at the blanket now instead of Belle.

“Shh, hey, hey, hey,” Belle sat up, taking his hands away and putting them back on her. “It’s okay. It’s alright.” She slid her hands down his back, cupping his firm flesh and pulling him closer to her. She spread her legs, wrapping them around his waist and pressed their hips together.

They both moaned, his trembling ceasing, arms embracing her so close.

“This, this is alright with you?” He whispered. “Bit, um, juvenile, isn’t it?” He smiled nervously.

Belle kissed him, rocking her hips once and they gasped together. “I feel good,” she assured, speaking quietly. “Do you?” He nodded and her smile grew. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Rumple started grinding against her, turning his face into her throat, gasping against her skin while they moved. Belle shuddered, clinging to his shoulders and turning her face toward his, whimpering when he bit her.

“Yes…” She gasped, feeling him drink her. Goosebumps slid up her flesh, his deep kiss rattling her to her core. Her hips moved faster, already eager for him. Such beautiful care he took. She’d never be able to have someone else, it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be nearly this...attentive. This important, this wanting, this meaningful. He adored her, he worshipped her, and she felt that in every touch he gave her when they were intimate like this. Each kiss was a confession, each caress a proclamation, every moan a plea for her to understand how much he loved her, how eager he was to make her happy. How could anything or anyone possibly do better? How could she not love him with all her heart when he opened up to her like this without saying a word?

All her fears from today had vanished, all tension gone from his features. Only this, only them, and it was perfect.

Rumple was gasping, allowing pleasure to course through him for the first time in months, and he wasn’t afraid. Belle would not hurt him, mock him, or torment him in any way. She wanted him to feel as she did. She wanted him to feel good, safe, happy. And he did. Even if it was just for now, just tonight, he did.

Rumple kissed the bite he left on her neck, softly, tenderly, whispering out that he loved her. He said her name over and over again as he moved. Belle encouraged his moans, squeezed him closer to her and continued rutting against him

“Belle,” he gasped, listening to her heart flutter, watching her pupils dilate as she crested her second orgasm. He whimpered, kissing her again and again, and finally came with a sharp gasp. Belle shuddered through her own release, gasping and staring up at him in a daze.

“S-see?” She stammered, smiling at him. “Not juvenile at all.” He kissed her, breathing in the scent of her skin and relishing this moment. Flushed, sweating and exhausted as they were, that was needed.

“I missed you,” he breathed, brushing the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “Oh, Belle, I missed you so much.”

“I’m here,” she promised. “I’ll always be here, alright? It’s okay.”

Jelly-legged, they took turns cleaning up before curling up together in bed, laced around each other tight as they could manage.

“Goodnight,” she whispered, looking up at him. A thin trail of blood started to seep from his nose and she quickly reached for a tissue to wipe it away.

He chuckled softly. “Good morning.”

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” She asked, worried. He shook his head and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Just tired, darling.” He closed his eyes, idly rubbing her back. “Thank you.”

She smiled a little, letting her own eyes fall shut. “Don’t have to thank me for loving you, Rumple.”

“Mm, I know. But I want to,” he said, already half asleep. She smiled a little more and kissed his arm, drifting off quickly.

“Thank you for loving me too,” she sighed. Rumple nuzzled her, sleeping heavily and peacefully for the first time in weeks. He only dreamed of Belle.

 


	24. Recapture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple tries to get things back to normal and it all goes horrifically wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the delay I was dealing with finals as well as some familial issues thank you all for your patience.

The king was back.

That’s all anyone in the ruddy bar would whisper about when they glanced at him, that he was back. Rumors had spread around that he’d been attacked, been harmed perhaps, but he did away with any of that talk with a glare. His black eyes bore into anyone who dared approach him with anything other than a welcome or something about them being glad to see him again, stifling their words with a single look and dismissing them from sight. All he was to do while here was watch. Just look over things from the ornate antique chair that served as a sort of throne, a tradition set forth by the Authority.

At the moment it was giving Rumplestiltskin enough confidence and security to sit still and not spend every moment looking around for Her.

Every sweep of his eyes across the room caught that sickening green tint. Every woman’s voice was hers, every hiss from the music her voice in his ear. It sent goosebumps crawling up his back, a thin sheen of sweat on the back of his neck and the urge to tremble and vomit churning in his belly.

Being here was a nightmare.

But it was one he had to endure, for his sake, for Bae’s, and for Belle’s.

The Authority had sent him another pretentiously sealed letter, stating that should he keep refusing to tend to his duties as King of the Northeastern Region of the Americas, then he would be replaced with the next available candidate, which at this point was some ruthless, petty little bastard named Arthur who let every ounce of power go to his head.

He worked hard for this power, lost everything for it, he would not relinquish it to some entitled little brat like that.

The anxiety and panic would be worth it. If anything, the distress made him look more intimidating, as the stress tightened his jaw and stiffened his entire stance.

All he did was sit completely still and wait. One night, one opening for the bar, he could do that. And once it closed he could go home, hold Belle and lie in her lap while she read a book and just...slip into sleep and hope the soft caresses she left in his hair would chase away the nightmares brimming on the edge of his subconscious and then everything would be...just fine.

He had to keep reminding himself of that, the music thrumming in his ears, vibrating his bones. It was easy to get lost in, and if he didn’t focus on the bodies writhing on the dancefloor, vampires sliding around gracefully and humans clumsily attempting to mimic them, the lights would all blur together and it was somewhat soothing.

A few hours of this and then he could breathe much easier.

Neal was following what leads he could about Zelena, searching through the town and likely taking a moment to speak with Emma about everything that had happened between them. He didn’t want to pry or push when he spoke to him next; he’d done enough meddling in his life already and no real good could come of it. But he was still his son, and he wanted to know if he would be alright.

If he was going to stay.

Or leave again.

He closed his eyes briefly, pressing his fingertip to his nose, something he did often when thinking about  his child and worked to center himself again.

“Your highness?”

His eyes flicked open and the glare was in place before he registered who was speaking. He relaxed, his expression softening.

“Jefferson,” he said softly, nodding to him. “Something wrong? Where’s Belle?”

“Oh, she’s fine,” he assured. “Getting the library ready, nice and locked up safe. She’s alright,” he promised. “I’m more concerned about you.”

“Is that so?” He asked, cocking his brow at him and trying not to be too quick to defense. Jefferson’s expression was gentle and open, truly just curious about his wellbeing. He still wasn’t quite used to that, seeing as he and one other person in his entire life had ever bothered with that sort of thing.

“I’m alright,” he assured. “Go have your night off, Jefferson, I’m fine. I can handle overseeing menacingly for an evening.” A ghost of a smile crossed the older vampire’s lips and Jefferson returned it with a soft chuckle.

“As you wish, my king,” he smiled, bowing low to make Rumple smile more, and it worked.

He watched the hatter disappear into the crowd, back to the human he’d been toying with, whispering into her ear to ask whether he could have a proper taste of her outside.

Hours passed, uneventful and without much change in the initial routine. It seemed before Rumple could blink the place had entirely emptied out, save for Graham, who was still washing glasses and eyeing him carefully.

“Going to head home, your highness?” He asked, jerking the vampire out of the empty stare he’d been giving the floor for the past forty five minutes. He looked over at him and shook his head.

“No. No, I think I’ll stay here a bit longer,” he said quietly. “You go ahead and go home, I’ll lock up.”

In minutes Rumple was alone, listening to the soft silence that now overtook the bar. It was peaceful, this quiet, no sound at all, no stirring of life just… silence.

He would leave soon. Go to Belle in her  library and help her to the best of his ability, be with her, listen to her talk about the ones she’s already read, watch her smile and coo over ones she hadn’t and place them so gently on the shelves where they belonged. And she would smile at him, brush her fingers along the back of his neck when she passed him, pause to squeeze his shoulders and brush her lips against his cheek. Once more he could forget his own quiet terrors and self-loathing, his sickened feelings toward himself and what had been done with him, the fear slowly churning into bitterness and hatred that Belle banished with her existence and presence.

He wondered if Belle could see it, this transformation from a shaking coward to a snarling, angry beast that was sure to come out soon. He would learn to bite, to be vicious, like a dog backed into a corner for too long. He wasn’t quite to that point yet, and he only hoped when his teeth inevitably went for the jugulars of his tormentors Belle wouldn’t be too repulsed. Or worse, be one of the throats the terrified beast tore into.

He scoffed at his own thoughts, waving them away. Maybe it would be better if she just staked him. Or if he did it himself. Then people would stop worrying, the town would likely be safer, Belle would be better off, Bae would have his complete freedom and no one could possibly miss him all that much, could they?

Rumplestiltskin wondered if perhaps death was more peaceful. Quiet black, just like this, silence cradling a consciousness that needn’t be bothered with thinking. Just rest. Eternal rest.

He’d been so occupied with those thoughts he hadn’t heard the footsteps on the stairs below. He didn’t hear the heartbeat clanging away in a human’s chest, didn’t smell human skin until it was too late.

Much, much too late.

“There you are, pet.”

Everything inside of him turned to ice, a sickening clamminess overcoming him and he thought for a moment he was simply hallucinating and when he blinked the source of that voice would be gone and the horrific stench of her skin he’d only just gotten off of him would disappear.

Rumplestiltskin was never a lucky man.

He opened his eyes and stared at her, pale, shrinking away from her instinctively and forgetting entirely that he had the strength to fight. Her manic smile and wide eyes kept him from remembering that, kept him from even thinking there was an option for escape.

He was trapped again, shaking with fear, flashes of that cage, of her filling his mind and he was utterly paralyzed. He shook his head, swallowing. “You, you can’t be here. You can’t… Get away from me!”

“Now, that’s no way to speak to me,” she said in her sickly voice, approaching him, grinning at his palpable terror. “Have you forgotten how to be a good boy, pet?”

Rumple felt bile rise in the back of his throat and he feared he might be sick. His hands gripped the arms of the chair so tight he felt the wood give under his fingers. “Get the fuck away from me!” He snarled again, only the smallest break in his voice, but he still couldn’t stand.

Zelena giggled, now close enough to touch him and he found the nerve to get up, to back away. The chair flew back and he was left standing with nothing to grab onto. He swayed, his ankle screaming in pain he would never be rid of, but he stood, glaring at her.

“What are you going to do?” She challenged, still approaching him. “Kill me? Hurt me?” His fangs unsheathed and she giggled. “Oh, but Rumple, what would happen to Belle if you did?”

More fear, strong enough to make him buckled and he fell back, staggering until he could grasp the chair, his cane on the floor and too far away for him to even think about getting it.

“What have you done with her?” He snarled, still shaking and sweating now. “What did you do with Belle?!”

“I put her away,” she giggled. “Somewhere secret with someone who, if I don’t check in when I said I would, will gut your pretty little girl. And you know, I’ll bet he’s already done some nasty things to your pig.”

“H-how do I know you even have her?” He demanded, one little jump of bravery, of anger and accusation he let free. She grinned horribly again, holding up her phone, a voice ringing out.

 _“Rumple!”_ Belle’s scream made his stomach lurch violently. _“Rumple, please!”_

“She does love to squeal, doesn’t she?” Zelena chortled, ending the call and pocketing the phone again. Rumple was too afraid to hear the lie in Zelena’s heartbeat, too consumed with Belle being hurt, being afraid and at the mercy of this madwoman to notice.

“Don’t you dare hurt her!” It was a plea, begging with an attempt to sound menacing.

“Oh, I won’t. And she’ll be safe and sound, so long as you come with me nice and quiet. Like a good boy.” She pulled the shears out of her pocket, the blades still painted with his blood. He shuddered, shaking his head. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real, he had to be dreaming, stuck in some hellish nightmare, this wasn’t possible!

She walked up to him, pressing the shears against his neck, taking a fistful of his hair and grinning as his skin sizzled and he hissed in pain. “Take me to your shop. Now. Quick as you can.”

“Zelena, please,” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. “Don’t do this.”

She scowled dangerously, yanking his hair harder. It was so hard to breathe. He could feel the phantom echoes of the collar around his neck cinching tighter and tighter under that look, the familiar scent of his flesh burning stinging his nostrils, throwing him back into the hell he’d only just escaped from.  

“Now, or you’ll find her in pieces,” she growled.

With another flip of his stomach he grabbed onto Zelena and ran quicker than the eye could see to his shop, unsure of what fate he would be met with.

~*~

Belle paced the floor of the house, having left the library some time ago, wondering if Rumple had simply forgotten he was supposed to tell her when he was leaving the bar and just went home to wait instead. Maybe something had happened and he was working his way through a panic attack, maybe that’s why he wasn’t home.

Jefferson had no idea where he could have gone. The last time he saw him was at the bar and he’d been relatively alright. Neal hadn’t talked to him since sunset and was currently on his way up the driveway to speak with her.

It was likely nothing to be worried about. Rumple was most likely fine and was out walking and had simply lost track of the time. But the last time she couldn’t find him he… He needed her and she hadn’t panicked quickly enough. She hadn’t tried.

And now she’d tear the entire town apart again if that’s what it took to get him back.

“Hey,” Neal said when he came in, looking just as worried. “So you haven’t heard from him?” She shook her head, hugging herself.

“I’ve called him six times and he hasn’t picked up. Something’s wrong, I can feel it. I… I don’t know where he’d be, and you said you checked her house-”

“That’s where I just was,” he assured, trying not to let panic seep into his own voice. He’d just gotten to see his father again, just gotten him back and now this. “Okay, so he’s not at the bar, not at the library, and he’s not here,” he said, calculating, it seemed. “Would he be at the shop?”

“I...I don’t know, there’s no reason for him to be,” she said, wringing her hands and fighting the tears in her eyes. She couldn’t lose him, not again. He wouldn’t make it through Zelena if she had him again. He’d die first, he’d never pull himself back out of it, not with how invasive she was. He wouldn’t be able to take it, not when it was so close together, and it terrified her.

“Hey,” Neal said, clasping her shoulder to regain her attention. “Let’s try the shop. Maybe he went looking for something of mine and got sidetracked. He does that sometimes. I think. He used to, anyway.”

“No, you’re right he, he does,” she nodded, swallowing and trying to relax.

“We’ll try there first, and then call Sheriff Swan, okay?”

Belle nodded again, stalking out of the house, her heart thundering against her ribs with fear overtaking her that she never wanted to experience again.

~*~

“I thought I’d be caught for sure,” Zelena grinned, backing Rumple deeper into the shop. “Oh, I ran for so long trying to avoid your little friends buzzing around for me. Thankfully I found someone to house me with a great deal of interest in your reign.”

The Dark One couldn’t look away from the shears in her hands, knowing he was being pushed toward the back room, which only terrified him more.

“A vampire named Arthur. Much younger than you, not nearly as brilliant, but he has this...insatiable ambition,” she chuckled. “He kept me hidden away, allowing us to bide some time before I came after you again. Once you’re out of the way, then the throne is his. He wants it so very much, Rumple, and after your experience with the Authority we’re going to make it look like you ran away with me.” She grinned when he sneered, disgusted by the idea.

“No one will believe you,” he hissed out, past the curtain now, the back of his legs hitting the cot placed back there and his bad leg buckled, sending him back onto it. He started to shake, whimpering when she took a silver chain from her pocket, the same he’d been bound with before, and violently shook his head.

“Please. Please, no, Zelena, don’t tie me up. Please, please, don’t,” he begged, tears in his eyes again.

“If you don’t behave,” the witch warned, pointing the shears at his jugular. “Arty has his fun with Belle, understand? You know how angry he gets, there’s no telling what he could do to her.” She jabbed the shears into his skin, grinning all the more when he whimpered again. “Lie. Down.”

“Please-”

Zelena slashed him across the face, tearing his skin and he cried out once more, flinching away from her and holding his hands up to keep her back. “Have you really forgotten how to be a good pet? Hm? LIE DOWN!”

He flinched again at the shout and did as she said, crossing his wrists above his head. For Belle, He had to do this to keep Belle safe, he had to obey.

“Please,” he whispered, gritting his teeth through the pain as she bound him again and all the work he’d done to better himself, everything that had happened to heal his mind again was shattered. She would brutalize him and crush him entirely. He couldn’t push through it again, not in his own shop, not with his son so near and Belle in danger he couldn’t… “Zelena, just kill me. Please, not this, just kill me, let me die. Don’t hurt Belle, please, she never harmed anyone, just let-let her go and kill me!”

She laughed, grabbing his hair and he quaked. “But I’ve already got you trained so well. And besides, we’re going to run away together, remember, pet? I take you far away from here to be mine forever, leave Belle dismembered and torn apart in your home and the Authority will believe you really were lying about the pathetic little human forcibly fucking you. Arthur will have the throne and we will have our own happily ever after.”

“No! No, you said, you said you wouldn’t hurt her!”

“Oh, well, I lied,” she shrugged, smiling at him. “Oops.”

He stared at her, his breath rattling. “I’m not yours,” he hissed. “No matter what you do, no matter how you hurt me or how long I’m with you, I will not be yours.”

She sneered, running the tip of the blade down his chin and his throat, dragging it over his Adam’s apple. “We’ll see.”

Zelena straddled him, pushing his suit jacket back and working his waistcoat open, grinning as his tears fell, the flash of strength gone at the promise of what she was about to do.

“Please kill me,” he begged, sobbing softly. Cage, shop, chained, broken, whole, blinding lights, he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. He didn’t know where he was.

“Well, see, if I kill you and let Belle go, then I’ll just have to find another pet that’s just as good. Like, say, your son?”

“No!” He bellowed, jerking on the chains and she laughed at him, pressing the shears to his throat again.

“Don’t like that idea either? Well, pet, you have to choose,” she grinned. “Your pig or your prodigal son. Pick one, and then I’ll decide what to do.”

He sneered at her, his cheek twitching and his anger bubbled back up, a semblance of control, of bravery about him. “No,” he growled. “I will not. And you cannot make me. I am not afraid of you-”

Zelena forced her mouth onto his and he grunted, his body shrinking into itself. She pulled back laughing. “Yes you are. But don’t worry, I know how to take that fight out.”

His breath hitched, an unholy amount of pain sparking white from the crest of his ribcage. He screamed in pain, the shears having been pushed into his flesh, cutting and burning deep inside of him. He tried to arch off the bed but it made the agony unbearable. His screams were soon stifled for the same reason and he lie there, choking and trying to breathe, staring up at her with tears on his face now.

“I said, choose,” she ordered again. “Or do you want me to stab you elsewhere?”

Rumple shook his head, ducking submissively, obediently. She tore the shears out and he gasped again, gagging as he tried to think through the agony.

Choose, how could he choose? Between his boy and his love, he couldn’t. He couldn’t choose who would live and who would die, he loved them both with all his might.

A voice nagged at him in the back of his mind, trying to wade through the terror and the internal screaming from having her on top of him, to think logically about who to choose, but it was so hard. Her weight, her scent, her hair, her eyes, it was all his worst nightmare. The most horrifying thing that could possibly happen. How could he let her get him again? How could he just let this happen? Why was he so weak?

Bae stood a chance of fighting her. He was smarter than him, stronger and braver than his father, Baelfire could make it through anything. And he certainly wouldn’t let something like this happen to him once, let alone twice. Bae could fight her off, Bae could survive.

Against a vampire and this addict before  him, however, Belle would not live. She could only fight so much and if she was already weakened from torture… He could hear her screaming his name, terrified, wondering where he was, why she was being hurt and it was his fault. Her suffering, all of it, was his fault.

He shut his eyes. _Forgive me, son._

“Belle,” he gasped, looking away from her. “I-I choose Belle.”

Zelena laughed, cackling, really, shaking her head. “Oh, you pathetic beast. Worthless little nothing, you are so weak!”

He stared up at her, confused, but hoping so much that she would kill him now. End him here before any more torture and let Belle go and Baelfire could run, he could just run away and be safe.

“I’m going to have such fun with you again,” Zelena sighed. “My favorite pet. I’ll just have them both killed. Won’t that be wonderful? Then it’ll just be you and me!”

“NO! No, please, please, don’t hurt them, don’t-!”

Zelena stabbed his neck, cutting a gash into it, watching his blood flow out and beaming with his scream.

“Hush. I’m going to drink you, just like I used to. And then I’m going to tear the clothes right off of your hideous naked body and fuck you until you remember what it means to be my pet.”

He cried louder, trying to stammer out the words to beg for mercy. But her foul lips latched onto his neck and he screamed, feeling his blood leave him. He writhed and kicked out but it was no use. He still had some shred of hope to save Belle. That his son would be too far away for Zelena to take. That everything would be alright and he would die and have his peace.

She threw the shears across the room in her hunger, biting the wound, tearing at the burns the silver had left on him and he cried. He cried and waited for it to be over, because it was all he could do, all he remembered to do.

Faintly, so far away, he thought he heard the bell on the door to the shop ring. That couldn’t be right, his mind was toying with him some more.

Rumplestiltskin had been thrown back into the hell he’d escaped from and this time there would be no saving. Whether he died from simply giving up or Zelena really did kill him he would not make it out of this. He’d been that lucky once, but never again.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!”

The sharp, sudden declaration of a voice he knew jerked him from his pitying haze and he looked over at Belle, who was picking up the shears and hurtling herself at Zelena.

Zelena had only gotten part of the way up when Belle grabbed her by her hair and threw her through the doorway into the rest of the shop. Belle moved to strike at her but Zelena was so much stronger, faster, again because of him. He faintly heard his own voice, screaming back at Belle.

“RUN! BELLE, RUN, GET AWAY AND RUN!”

It went unheard. He couldn’t keep track  of who might be winning when they were out of sight. He could only see blurs of them through the curtain, trying to wrench the weapon one way or the other, everything moving so quickly…

“Belle?!”

Baelfire’s voice from across the shop, shrieking and cursing from the women fighting, Rumple still begging his son and his love to run away and just leave him there.

Then everything went eerily still, something changing. The shears had met a target.

“Belle, no!” Neal bellowed and Rumple fought to get off the cot, to see what caused it, to get out there, to get to Belle. His wrists tore horribly and still he fought, calling her name again and again in the seconds that felt like years.

A body fell through the curtain and hit the wooden floor where Rumple could see, gushing blood. Dead.

 


	25. Burdens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The body is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sticking through this with me. I've had a rough couple of months but I should be posting regularly now. Thank you for your patience and your time, and if you're looking for fic to nominate for the Espenson awards on Tumblr, please consider this fic if you love it to pieces like I do! Enjoy~

Belle stared at the beast in her full form, seething. Blood dripped from Zelena’s mouth, coating her chest like some heinous badge of honor, eyes alight with the high it gave her and brimming with the malice she held for Belle. She was a monster. She’d hurt him. She’d cut him and bound him and nearly undressed him again. Zelena violated a place that was safe, that was  _ home, _ and spread her wretched stench all over it. 

She couldn’t take it. Ripping her away from Rumple, throwing her into the room and beating her as she tried to overpower her, Belle couldn’t hear anything but Rumple crying. Zelena was freshly buzzing with his blood, her pupils dilated, her strength immense. She threw Belle into a glass case that shattered, put shards in her back and her hands, but she didn’t stop. 

There was no force on earth that would stop Belle from subduing this woman. 

“You don’t deserve him!” Zelena cried, lunging for her and wrapping her bloody hands around Belle’s throat. “You’re  _ nothing _ ! Why should I have to suffer alone why you get him?! What’s so special about you?!” 

Belle’s toes barely touched the ground, but it was enough to give her leverage to throw her forehead into Zelena’s nose and get her to let go. “I’m smart,” Belle spat, panting as she staggered back. Zelena went for her again and Belle ducked out of the way, only to get her hair pulled and her body dragged through the glass again. 

She grabbed a big shard of it and jammed it in the woman’s ankle, relishing her scream far more than she should. 

The shears were still locked in Belle’s other hand, and when Zelena went for her again, punching her in her face, disorienting her with her strength it was those she tried to wrestle away from her. “I’m going to fucking gut you with these,” she snarled, grinning wide. “And then, I’m going to make that filthy worm in there suck your blood off of them, lick them clean, then maybe I’ll fuck him with them,” she giggled. “Won’t that be wonderful, pig?” She twisted Belle’s wrist, hard, breaking it. The girl screamed in pain and anger, and still found the strength not to relinquish her hold on them. Zelena had a hand to her throat again, trying to choke the life out of her, gleefully pressing hard on her larynx. Shadows started crowding Belle’s vision and it occurred to her then that she may not survive this. 

The door opened. 

“Belle?” 

The distraction loosened Zelena’s grip and Belle pressed back against the wooden counter, supporting herself as she delivered a hard kick to Zelena’s ribs with her massive heel. 

Zelena fell back next to the doorway, gasping. empty handed, trying to catch her breath and get to the shears, the nearest weapon, and finish this. 

All of it happened before Neal had any time to think. 

One second Belle was standing there, broken and bleeding, the next she had the shears in her hands and was rushing the monstrous woman against the wall. 

“Belle, no!” 

The satisfaction Belle felt when the blades pierced Zelena’s heart frightened her. She tore them back out to ensure she would bleed out, sneering. “Oops,” she hissed. 

Zelena staggered and fell through the curtain, dead before she hit the ground. 

Belle stood there a moment, her breaths shaking, her wrist swelling more and more as time passed, staring at Zelena’s feet sticking out from under the curtain. It might’ve been funny if she weren’t a murderer. 

“Belle?” Neal said again, carefully touching her shoulder. 

“She would’ve killed me,” she whispered. “Would’ve broken out of prison, would’ve been released, would’ve gotten to him.” 

“I know,” he assured. “But-” 

On the other side of the curtain, a cry reached Belle’s ears and she couldn’t listen to anything else. She broke away from Neal, bolting into the room and falling beside him on the cot. “Rumple! Rumple, I’m here. I’m here, it’s alright.” 

The look in his eyes was the same. The echo of pain and fear that lingered there like mist hugging the ground, the pain etched in the lines in his face, and the doubt as to whether or not this part was real. He likely thought none of it was real, that all this time he was still confined to the cellar waiting for her again. 

His nostrils flared instinctively with the scent of blood, fangs drawn for much the same reason, but also for defense against a known threat. Bloody tears slid down his face, clothes torn once again, but at least they were on this time. Although Belle knew it didn’t make any damn difference that Zelena hadn’t raped him again, she brought it all back just by being close to him. He was cut, bruised and burnt, his flesh torn at his neck with what appeared to be teeth. 

Her stomach churned, feeling all the more satisfied that she’d slaughtered that woman. 

“Please untie me, please, Belle,” he begged softly, looking up at her, pleading. 

“Shh, shh, I’m sorry, shh,” she soothed, untying the silver from his hands, stomach churning as his skin came with it in sinewy strings. Rumple whimpered, shutting his eyes with the pain, not wanting to see it. She dropped the heinous rope on the ground and quickly gathered him in her arms, kissing his forehead and his cheeks. 

“I’m here, I’m here, it’s alright-” 

“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know what to do! She had you, I thought-” 

“-Everything’s alright now, Rumple. We-” 

“-I heard you scream I had to give in, I wasn’t strong enough-” 

“-We’re getting you out of here, shh…” Rumple quieted, trembling against her. “You aren’t weak, Rumple,” she assured. “You aren’t weak.” 

He looked up at her, at her battered face and broken wrist, his lips shaking. “She hurt you,” he breathed. 

“I hurt her worse,” she retorted. Rumple shook his head, quivering as he moved to bite himself so she could drink. “Shh, no,” she said softly, tipping his chin back up. “You lost too much, you don’t have enough to give me. You should drink from me.” 

“Belle, you-” 

“I’m alright,” she promised, brushing his sweaty hair back from his face. She moved her braid and tipped her head, gently guiding him to her skin, quietly shushing his panicked protests. 

“Shh…” She soothed. “It’s alright. It’s alright, you’re alright. It’s okay.” 

Neal stepped into the room when Rumple bit Belle. 

She closed her eyes, tensing a little with the initial pain, but recovered quickly. She stroked his hair with her good hand, expression relaxing in moments. She frowned when he pulled away suddenly, and he shook his head, holding up a hand to assure it was alright. He didn’t want to take anymore from her than he actually needed, seeing as she needed human medical attention since he couldn’t give her any of his. Neal would offer his own to help, but… It might be a bit strange for Belle to be having dreams about her lover’s son, even if her blood smelled sweeter than honeysuckle. 

It took them a moment for them to notice they weren’t the only ones in the world, Belle’s face dawning with recognition. 

“I uh, called 911,” he said, trying to breathe through the stench of the addict at his feet. “Told them what happened and Sheriff Swan is on her way with an ambulance. She’s gonna need statements and all that.” 

He tried not to look at his father. Not because he was ashamed to see him hurt, but because Papa had his head ducked low, eyes on the ruined mattress, wounds partially healed. His shoulders were pinched inward, a few bloody tears finding their way to his face. Rumplestiltskin was ashamed and hurt that his boy had to see him like this. 

It wasn’t the first time. Papa returned from the road all the time battered and wounded. Never bandits, just people who knew his name or his gait, cruel people who threw stones, beat him with his walking stick before pitching it into the forest, making him chase after the bread and money he’d worked so hard for so they could laugh at him. 

Then Baelfire would be asked to run to the well, to the doctor, the neighbor even to just take a walk once, by his mother. Each time he returned Papa always looked worse. Frightened, broken, sometimes bleeding where Bae hadn’t seen an injury before. Baelfire knew very young that his papa was given beatings by his mother, but he would never say. He would never utter a word of this knowledge because he knew how it would break him. 

How ashamed he would feel knowing Baelfire had known his secret. 

Looking at him now, Neal knew it was worse than any sort of pain his mother could have delivered. 

He hadn’t been present when Belle found him the first time. He didn’t see the worst of it, but this was enough. His bloodsoaked Papa shaking with the residual trauma, the pain hitting him in bursts and waves as he remembered it. He kept himself turned away from Zelena’s body, skin tinging green whenever he got a decent look at her. 

Neal grabbed a sheet off a nearby armoire and threw it over her so he at least didn’t have to see her, but until Emma arrived they would have to smell her. 

“Thank you, Neal,” Belle said gently, smiling at him warmly. She was shaking too, her heart beating so quickly. She’d killed someone today. Stabbed a woman in the heart. He didn’t blame her and he was more than glad this woman’s poisonous existence wouldn’t be around to threaten his father’s safety again. 

Sirens approached, getting louder by the moment and he could feel the ambulance stop outside, along with Emma’s car. 

“Storybrooke Police!” Emma yelled, the bell above the door clanging as she burst inside. 

Rumple jumped, looking up at Belle and nearly hiding behind her. He wasn’t ready for this, he was already so violated. Torn at, kissed, bitten and bled with the threat of his loved ones being killed if he didn’t let her do as she pleased she would’ve fucked him until she broke his bones and even then she wouldn’t have stopped. He would’ve spent eternity beneath her, calling for mercy when there wasn’t any given in Hell. And one day she would throw Belle’s lifeless body on top of him and make him do horrific things to it and-

“Papa?” 

He jumped, looking up at his child, who had taken Belle’s place beside him. 

“Where-?” 

“Emma made her  go out to the ambulance,” he explained gently. Rumple nodded, curling into himself. Zelena’s body was gone from the doorway. 

“Hey.” Neal spoke very gently, close to his ear with one hand on his shoulder. Rumple looked at him, attempting to hold himself together. “I need you to stay with me, Papa. Right here in this room with me, can you do that?” 

He nodded weakly, anxieties easing slightly when Bae smiled at him. 

“It’s okay.” Baelfire’s hand clasped gently in his own, and he started shaking harder, looking at them. 

“No,” he rasped, shaking his head a little. “No, Bae, it isn’t alright. This shouldn’t have happened.” 

Neal frowned, not letting go of him. “Papa-” 

“No,” he said, more firmly now. “Twice. Twice she’s taken me, son. Twice she’s fooled me into thinking something horrific would happen to Belle if I fought. Twice she’s made me feel powerless, rendered me helpless, and used me like a toy. And I let her.” 

“You didn’t let her do anything,” he said, frowning at him and speaking with just as much authority. “You were the victim here, Papa, it’s not your fault. None of it is. You can’t blame yourself for the choices she made and the sick methods she used, it’s not your fault.” 

“I could’ve fought her,” he said, pleading now for Bae to see, to understand that his father would always be a weak, frail coward that can’t protect anything. Including himself. “But I-I’m a-” 

“Nope. No. Mm-mm.” Neal didn’t listen. Instead he pulled his father into his arms and hugged him. 

Rumple protested just a little, very softly. He didn’t deserve this, after giving himself over to her like that, he didn’t deserve kindness and love - he deserved to be Zelena’s pet. He deserved hatred and scorn and pain. He deserved her tortures and the wretchedness he felt inside. He didn’t deserve Belle, he didn’t deserve Bae. 

“That’s a lie,” Neal whispered, holding the back of Rumple’s head, and the vampire realized he’d been speaking all of that aloud. He shook with a quiet sob. He had to keep the pieces together, he couldn’t break, he couldn’t break. “That’s not true, Papa, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m proud of you, okay? You’re so strong, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that ‘til now.” 

Rumplestiltskin shattered.

~*~

“Come on, son, it’s alright.” 

Rumple held the hand of his child as they walked down the long, long trail home, night having settled in hours before. The towns they’d left glimmered in the background, the lights the size of fireflies now and the first flickers of their village were starting to come into view. 

His leg was screaming at him to stop and rest, but Baelfire was already so tired, going as fast as his little legs would allow him to when he was so fatigued. A few times Rumple even saw that he was walking with his eyes closed. He’d tripped several times and it made his chest ache to see his babe so exhausted. 

“Here,” he said, voice so soft as he knelt in front of him. “I’ll carry you, Bae, and you can rest. How’s that?” He smiled at him, cupping his neck. 

“No, Papa, I can do it!” He squeaked out tearfully. 

“Oh, hey now, hey…” He wiped the tears from Baelfire’s eyes, shushing him and still smiling. “What’s that for, eh? No tears, it’s alright.” 

“I’ll hurt you if you carry me, Papa,” he sniffled. Rumple softened further, shaking his head. 

“It never hurts to hold you, Bae. I promise. Come here.” 

The little one hugged him tight, his arms around his neck, his face turned into his hair for the warmth and safety he felt there. 

Rumple stood, holding him with one arm, his walking stick in the other, and he kept limping home. He sang softly for a while, lulling Bae into a gentle sleep that he hoped brought him some peace. 

Of course it hurt. Every step was another pinch of agony, but Bae was sleeping. He’d eased that one ill, he’d made sure he was taken care of and that’s what mattered. Baelfire was safe, warm, and sleeping, and that kept him going. The tiny fingers curled in his hair, the soft snores in his ear, that was enough for him to make it. 

He stopped once, afraid the pain would floor him soon and he would injure his precious cargo. He was sweating, hissing in breath and trying to ease the throb he felt. He took this injury for his boy, he’d endure this pain for him too. 

“Papa?” 

“Shh, go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he breathed, bouncing him a little. “Papa’s taking a little rest, it’s okay.” 

“I-I can get down-” 

“No, no, no, you sleep.” He smiled, rocking him now while his leg throbbed violently. “You sleep, my boy. Papa’s here. I’ve got you, I’m here.” 

Baelfire hugged him tighter before he drifted off again, and his father smiled. 

Holding him never hurt.

~*~ 

Feeling his father break in his arms was not something Neal ever wanted to experience. If he didn’t hold him tight enough, keep hugging him and cradling him as he was he’d lose some of the pieces of him. He’d lose something important, something he needed, if he didn’t hold on. 

He wrapped his arm around his slight shoulders, cheek to cheek and letting him grip him tighter than he could ever hold any human. No words came from him, sobs overtaking him entirely. Fear, guilt and pain gushed from him with the mildest hints of relief in the mix. 

After awhile he began stammering apologies again, quaking and pleading with him to understand that he didn’t know he was alive. He didn’t know he was alone and he was so sorry to burden him with his dark choices, with his cruelty to others, he didn’t mean to disappoint him and hurt him so much that he never sought him out. He promised to be better, to be good, to show him that he could be a good father and-

“Papa,” he said softly, looking at him with soft eyes. “You’ve been through so much. More than I can even wrap my head around. Not that you needed to, but whatever sins you needed to be absolved of, you have been. You paid the price for anything and everything you could possibly do. And you have suffered way more than I ever have, okay? Doesn’t make what happened go away, but… Papa, I love you. That’ll never change.” He touched Rumple’s face, much like his father had when he was young. 

“I’ve hurt you so much, you shouldn’t have to console me,” he said quietly, ashamed again. 

Neal smiled and pulled his papa close again, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “It never hurts to hold you.” 

~*~ 

Belle smiled softly, watching Rumple hug his son through the slit in the curtain while her wrist was set and put in a brace. 

“So you guys came here looking for him and found Zelena on top of him, drinking from him. That right?” Emma asked, trying not to step on any of the artifacts that had fallen from the broken cases around the shop. 

Belle nodded, turning her attention back to her. “Yes. She had stabbed him with the sewing shears and bound him to that bed back there and she was torturing him again. I came in before things could get too...horrible.” 

Emma nodded again and kept writing in her little notebook.

Belle winced as a deep cut on her cheek was cleaned, the sling around her neck keeping her arm against her chest now. “So, um, what happens now, do I...Am I going to jail?” 

Emma smirked a little. “Ya know, the thing about small towns? They only get riled up for certain things. Like vampires killing innocent people, people killing innocent vampires, traffic delays, things like that. V junkies assaulting the king of the Northeastern Region getting killed by his girlfriend? Not on the list. Though I should take you to the station and wait for the judge to set a bail and see if you’ll be charged.” 

Emma looked around a moment, finding a little crystal swan necklace and took it from the little rack. “There, you just made bail.” 

Belle smiled at her graciously. “Thank you,” she nodded. “I...just want to put all of this behind us. Move on with our lives and...give Rumple some peace. Real time to heal without fear. Time to be with his son.” 

Emma nodded, lips pursed. She looked toward the curtain, fiddling with her necklace pendant. “Yeah. Neal’s a good person to spend time with,” she agreed. Belle smiled again. 

“Maybe you should spend time with him at Granny’s for dinner next week. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no,” Belle smiled, looking tired and weary, but she still smiled. “I hear he’d like that very much.” 

Emma shrugged, dropping the pendant when she caught Belle looking at it. “Yeah. Maybe. Maybe, uh.” She cleared her throat, tucking the swan away now. “Uh, if I need anything else I’ll stop by or call or something. You might wanna get them home. Gonna be light soon.” 

The paramedics started to leave, and once the shop was quiet, Belle peeked back into the room in time for Rumple to limp toward her and hug her, breathing her in again. “Will you be alright?” He asked softly, face stained with the tears he’d shed and wiped away. She nodded. 

“Just a broken wrist, bumps and bruises. I’m alright.” She cupped his cheek, running the backs of her fingers along his skin. “Let’s get you home. I’ll take care of you, one hand or no.” 

He gave her a weak smile and walked out with her, taking a spare cane Baelfire handed him, flicking the shop sign to closed as he left. 

It wasn’t until Belle wrapped her arm around his waist that he remembered the diamond ring resting in his pocket.


	26. The Final Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple and Belle can finally move on to their happy ending.

Of course things hadn’t been easy since he came back. All the work Rumple’d done had been broken down to its bare bones again and he had to start over. He cursed himself for every panic he had, every time he snapped out of frustration or fear. Belle would simply hold him, let him hide in her chest or her hair and promise him it would be alright. 

Every time he looked at her, she could see his self-loathing for what he’d become. What a burden he believed he was.

Shaking and crying every time he attempted to sleep didn’t offer Rumplestiltskin much chance to think about doing anything with the ring he had. Waking up in Belle’s arms with blood all over her from his tears, nightmares ravaging him, draining him, whispering apologies over and over again to her, to Bae, to Jefferson for having to deal with the blubbering mess he’d become had left him constantly exhausted. 

If anything he was certain that Belle wouldn’t say yes to him if he asked her now. 

Belle’s wrist was healed now, as well as the injuries from the glass. He’d asked her to drink from him two days after the incident at the shop, begging her to allow him to thank her this way. She conceded after a bit of protesting, not wanting to take from him like Zelena had. Of course, that meant her dreams would be filled with her rampant desire for him. Vivid, intense dreams would befall her worried mind and she wondered before falling asleep if that would soothe her. 

But a frantic, worried mind would offer no peace, even with the inclusion of vampire blood.

~*~

“Mm, I love you…” 

Belle craned her neck, smiling gently as Rumple’s soft, gentle lips spread across her skin. His fangs grazed her throat tenderly, a teasing little scratch while his cool hands explored her body. 

“Rumple…” She breathed, goosebumps shooting over her skin. He was bare, flush against her own naked body and kissing her over and over again. Fangs pricked her delicate skin, a kiss so sweet and deep she couldn’t help the moan that slid from her lips. His entire essence flooded her system, dilating her pupils. He sucked gently, just enough to give her that deep want that wetted her legs and sent heat flying to her face. 

“Belle…” He whispered, pulling her back flush to his chest, sliding his fingers between her legs and slowly dragging them along her lips, giving gentle teases to sensitive skin to make her squirm. 

Lust consumed her, desire and love so strong she could hardly breathe because of it. She called his name hoarsely when he bit her again, hips rolling into skilled fingers and back into the heat of the cock behind her. She grinned, his deft tongue catching any stray drops of her blood and sweat. Rumple growled against her ear, relishing her taste while he teased and worked her body. 

“I love you,” he whispered, tongue flicking against the crest of her ear. She trembled, closing her eyes, panting. “I want you to come so many times you forget your own name, dearie.” He slid two fingers inside of her while another continued teasing her clit. She shouted, pressing back against him more so she was sure she could hear his pretty words. “I want you to scream my name and lose your beautiful voice. I want you to never, ever forget this night, little Belle. Does that sound good to you?” 

She nodded helplessly, beaming. “Good girl,” he smiled, curling his fingers against the spot inside of her that sent her entire being shuddering, soaking his fingers as the orgasm rocked through her. 

Belle turned her head and kissed him, rolling over now so she was on top of him. He smiled at her, eyes glinting with lust and absolutely brimming with his love for her. Such unbelievable adoration and care. Such sweet, sweet bliss she felt just looking at him and knowing he was safe. Oh, he was safe and that witch wouldn’t take him away from her, or hurt him anymore. 

Rumple’s breath caught while she rutted her lips along his cock, shuddering a little beneath her. Belle grinned, leaning down to kiss  him, arching her hips and reaching to help him get inside of her. 

He moaned, an unbridled, deep sound that caught her breath. His careful hands glided up her sides, cupped her breasts and grazed her nipples. “Sweet Belle,” he gasped, thrusting up into her, making her quake with want. She tipped her head back, taking in the sensations all at once. Perfect. So utterly perfect. 

The rhythm changed. His hands weren’t on her anymore and his sounds were...different. 

She frowned, opening her eyes and looking down and the sweet, beautiful man she’d gotten into bed with, who was now bound, collared, bloody and sobbing for relief. From her. He begged, he sobbed, he screamed as his battered body oozed blood onto the stained mattress of the cot, that single light bearing down on her like a sadistic spotlight, accusing her. She did this. She caused him all this pain, let it happen, inflicted it upon him. It was her who tied him down there, who was raping him and draining him and causing the anguish in his voice. 

“B-Belle, please! Please, no, d-don’t do this! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Belle! Have mercy, mercy, please!” He pleaded, tensed and hissing with her every move that she could not stop. “Please, Belle, don’t hurt me anymore. Please stop! I’ll be good! I’ll be good! No more, no more-!” 

“Rumple-!” 

“Belle?” 

~*~ 

She woke with a start, sobbing while Rumple held her face and her shoulders, trying to see if she was hurt or find the source of her  pain. 

“Belle! Belle, it’s alright! You’re alright, sweet girl, it was just a dream!” He assured, trying to reach her through her  fear and bring her back to him. “You’re alright, no one’s going to hurt you.” 

Belle’s eyes focused on him, her lips trembling. “I’m so sorry, Rumple,” she squeaked out. “I’m so sorry I didn’t, I didn’t get to you soon enough!” 

“What?” He frowned, shaking his head. “Belle, you saved me, that’s what matters. It’s not your fault she did that to me, none of it is.” The ache in his heart seeing her like this was evident on his face, which sent her into another fit of sobs that she was hurting him all the more. “Hey, hey, shh…” He pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “Belle, what happened? What did you dream, sweetheart?” 

She told him, gushed it out like a confession and ducked her head away from him guiltily. “...I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry, Rumple!” 

“Hey, hey, shh, listen to me,” he said softly. “If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I gave you my blood after this trauma, something bad was mound to happen. Oh, my Belle, I’m so, so sorry-” 

“You were helping me, don’t be sorry,” she implored, looking up at him now, her eyes shining in the dim light. “It was my dream that, that did that. I don’t want that, Rumple, I don’t want to hurt you!” 

“Shh, hey, I know,” he promised. “Oh, Belle, darling, I know you don’t. That’s not how those work, sweetheart. Yes, they fill you with desire for the vampire whose blood you’ve drank but when you’ve had the stress you have sometimes they mix with nightmares. Because of the intensity of the dreams the nightmare becomes just as real. But it’s not, Belle. It’s not, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Belle held tight to him, her tears seeping into his shirt. He rested his cheek on top of her head, cinching his arms around her. He rocked her a little, petting her hair and her cheek, closing his eyes when she started to hum to him. 

His own dreams had kept him awake off and on all day, expecting to wake in that cage again each time his eyes opened. Then he remembered her lifeless body, the funeral attended by no one, the pleading, begging apology Cora gave for ever introducing Zelena into his life. She got her punishment. He forced her to release Regina, to let her do as she chose and live her own life. From what he heard she was dating a werewolf with a tattoo on his arm now. 

He released Cora too, told her to leave, live out her own path and stay the hell away from him, his son, and his...his Belle. 

The only progeny he needed, the only child he wished to be near, was his boy. His Baelfire, who had bought an apartment in town. He and Emma were in the works of patching things up now. His son was happy. His life was clear and clean of the parasites he’d let into it and filled with the two people he loved and the only friend that really mattered. 

He should be happy. He should be moved on and looking forward to his future with Belle. Yet here he was, holding her with a sick feeling in his gut that never went away, soothing yet more pain he’d caused her. She’d be better off without him. 

Belle continued to sing, gently rubbing his back. “Rumple?” She asked, looking up at him. He looked down at her, trying to smile. 

“Yes, love?” 

“Would you ever turn me? I’m not asking you to, I’m just...curious.” She said softly. He thought for a moment, looking out into the dim room. “I think...someday. If you wanted. If we, we were committed to each other entirely. If you were sure you wanted to be with me for so long.” 

“I already want to be with you for the rest of my life, Rumple,” she said softly. “I’ve never been in love like this before, and I know I’ll never find anything as good either. You’re it for me. It’s...almost like you were meant for me. If, if that doesn’t sound too selfish.” 

He smiled, shaking his head. “It doesn’t,” he assured. “Not at all. I, I feel the same.” He brushed his fingers against her cheek. “I feel like I’ve been waiting all this time, just to meet you.” She blushed, leaning up and pressing a warm, chaste kiss to his lips, which he sighed against. There was nothing sweeter than her kiss. 

“So, when you say committed entirely,” she whispered. “Did you mean married? Or is there some vampire thing I don’t know about?” 

He laughed a little, thumbing the wetness from her eyelashes. “I, I did mean married. Unless...unless that frightens you, then I meant, um, sharing a phone bill?” Belle laughed now, smiling her dimpled grin and Rumple felt light enter his chest again, that sweetness in her eyes and her voice was such a sweet elixir that chased every dark thought away. 

“It doesn’t frighten me,” she promised, looking at him shyly. 

He kissed her forehead. “I...am  very glad to hear that, Belle. Now why don’t we try getting back to sleep, hm?” 

She nodded, lying with her head on his chest and her arms around her, blankets tight and warm around them, protecting the both of them. Rumple slowly rubbed her back, his eyes closed while he hummed sweetly to her, lulling her into a much gentler sleep than before. 

He turned his face into her hair, drifting off as well. Belle wanted to be married to him, To live her whole life with him and then some. She wanted to be with him, despite everything that had happened to them. 

The Dark One closed his eyes, knowing that soon, very soon, he’d be asking Belle a very important question. And that they may, in fact, be together forever. 

~*~ 

He’d thought of countless, extravagant ways to ask her. At a restaurant, candlelight, music, just the two of them and then he would ask her. 

But that...that wasn’t something for Belle, that’s just what happens in the most cliche corners of cinema and television. 

So he thought of this instead, hoping that this would be to her liking, that this would be just as perfect as she was. 

The door opened and he took a breath, his heart hammering, hands shaking. Of all the things he’d encountered, this was by far the most terrifying. 

Belle stepped into the library, ready to start her work for the day in getting things reshelved, restoring what volumes that needed it and seeing which new ones she could order to add to the constantly growing collection. That all, however, vanished from her mind the moment she turned on the lights. The fluorescents didn’t turn on, but the thousands of delicate fairy lights looped around the room did. False candles clicked on as well, lining the shelves and illuminating the roses she was standing on. She blushed, eyes wide with wonder, her smile immediate. She started walking through, winding along. 

The path was broken by a book. Dark, bound heavily with strange runes carved into the binding: The book she’d read from Rumple’s shelf the first day they’d met. She picked it up, giving a soft cry of delight, and continued walking. 

The next one she came to was the book her mother read to her, the one she held so dear to her, carefully placed on a soft bed of pink petals. She picked it up as well, hugging it close to her and trying not to tear up. 

The next book was the first one she’d ever read to Rumple. He’d asked her to, lied his head in her lap and just listened to her voice, back when she still lived in the other room, before everything went bad. The next was the first she’d read to him after Zelena, trembling against her, listening to the soft, sweet words she spoke to calm him. Each book that lined her path made her arms heavy and her heart swell. Finally the path ended, and at the end was a book she was unfamiliar with. 

Her brow pinched and she knelt down, setting the other books aside, picking up the beautifully bound edition of  _ Beauty and the Beast. _

“That one always reminded me of you and I.” 

Belle looked up, finally seeing what was truly at the end of this little journey. 

Rumple was leaning on his cane, a rose in his hand, smiling warmly at her. She straightened up, leaving the books stacked on the flowers, walking toward him in a warm daze. 

“What, what’s all this for?” She asked softly. He smirked a little, coyly offering the rose to her. She giggled, giving a little curtsy and giggled more when he bowed back to her. 

“Belle, I…” He began, an awed look in his dark eyes. He took her hands in his own, smiling gently at her. “What you have given me is more than I can ever give you. But I will try. You, you have given me such trust, and love. And I, I know that you trust me with all your heart.” 

Belle smiled, squeezing his hands. “I do.” 

“And I trust you with mine.” He placed her hand over his chest. “Take it. I am now, and for all the future yours.” 

The words were familiar, and Belle felt her legs turning to jelly. “Wait…” She breathed, looking around, then looking at him again. “What, what are you saying?”

Rumple took a breath, looking nervous and terrified and elated all at once. “Will you marry me?” 

Belle grinned, happiness blooming in her face with her blush. She nodded before she found her words, giggling. “Yes,” she smiled. “Yes, yes!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, her heart bursting with love and adoration. 

Rumple felt tears welling in his eyes out of sheer happiness. Joy pulsated from him in waves, his heart fluttering with excitement. He laughed and picked Belle up, grinning wide and falling back into a chair when his ankle gave, sliding against the elevator door as he kissed her over and over again. 

“We’re getting married,” she breathed, beaming at him. 

“And you’re going to be a queen, dearie,” he smiled. 

She licked her lips. “I like the sound of that.” 

He laughed, kissing her again. The love of his life, his fiancee, soon his wife. It took five hundred long, grueling years, but Rumplestiltskin had his happy ending. And Belle had started her adventure. 

~*~EPILOGUE~*~

_ Eighteen Months Later…  _

Dark, damp, surrounded, but not afraid. Not afraid of choking or suffocating, that didn’t matter. She forced herself up, coughing and gagging just to get the dirt from her lungs. 

She sighed, looking around. Her chest heaved, eyesight sharpened, every sense around her heightened. The thirst in the back of her throat was overwhelming. She looked around, every nerve on edge, licking her lips. 

“Belle?” 

She turned, looking at her husband with a newfound want. Her passion for him, strong as it was, deep as it ran already, now it was stronger. She looked at him, smiling a little, and felt her fangs burst from her gums for the first time. Whether it was hunger or lust she didn’t know, but oh, she wanted him so much. 

She grinned and rushed Rumple, moving faster than light, faster than wind, than sound. Oh, that was so magnificent. She was smiling when he caught her and kissed her deeply. “Mmn! Well, someone’s happy, hello.” 

“I feel...wonderful,” she breathed. “I feel everything, I...I’m so hungry, Rumple.” 

“I know, I know, shh…” He soothed, smiling. “I have plenty for you, sweetheart.” 

“Mmn, what if I’m hungry for you?” She growled, her eyes bright, pupils dilated. He gave a growling little laugh, pressing her against the back of their house. 

“Well then, Mrs. Gold, I suppose I’ll have to give you what you desire.” 

Belle kissed him with a sharp, deep hunger, her strength incredible, lust insatiable. Rumple gasped, grinning at her. 

“There’s no rush, dearie,” he assured. “We’ve all the time in the world.” 

Belle grinned again, running her fingers through his hair. “Forever.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! If you like this feel free to check out my other works and I'll have more coming soon!


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